
Book lAz^LiS" 



^^Z 



CQPnucn DEPosic 




ST POINTvS ClIKISTIAN TO THE WICKET GATE 



T^K Pkei^uess Edition. 



THE 



PILGRIM'S Progress, 

FROM THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME. "7-' -^ 



By JOHN BUNYAN. 

.WITH OVER ONE HUNDRED ILLUSTRATIONS DESIGNED 

By FREDERICK BARNARD AND OTHERS, 

ENGRAVED BY DALZIEL BROTHERS. 
I 

CHROMO-LITHOGRAPH PLATES IN NINE COLORS. 



AN INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR 

BY 

REV. WILLIAM LANDELS, D.D. 



TO WHICH IS ADDED 

TffE LITTLE PILGRIM.— K Poem. 




JOHN C. WINSTON & CO. 

PHILADELPHIA, CHICAGO, KANSAS CITY. 
1892 



t^'\ 



^0 < 



ENTEEED, ACCOEDINQ TO ACT OF CONGRESS, IN THE YEAR 1890, BY 

JOHN C. WINSTON, 

IN THE OFFICE OF THE LIBRARIAN OF CONGRESS, AT WASHINGTON. 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



PART I. 



"As I slept, I dreamed a dream," .......... 

Christian as seen by Bunj'an in his dream, . 

Heading — The City of Destruction, 

Christian tells his wife and children of his distress, 

"He began to retire himself to his chamber to pray," 

Evangelist points Christian to the wicket gate, 

Obstinate, 

Pliable, 

Christian and Pliable in the Slough of Despond, 

Mr. Worldly Wiseman, ............ 

" When Christian was stepping in, the other gave him a pull," . . . . 

" Beelzebub and they that are with him shoot arrows," 

Despair in an iron cage, ............ 

Christian before the Cross, 

"The bottomless pit opened just whereabout I stood," : 

Christian and the Angels, ............ 

Hypocrisy, 

Formalist, 

Christian climbing the hill of diflSculty, 

" He stumbled and fell, and rose no more," 

" He at last fell into a slumber," 

Mistrust, 

Timorous, ............... 

Watchful the Porter, 

" Christian sees lions in his path," .......... 

The porter meets Christian and calls Discretion to the palace door, .... 

Discretion, Piety, Charity, and Prudence instruct Christian at the Palace Beauti- 
ful, 

Giving thanks for his deliverance from Apollyon, ....... 

" A company of fiends," ........... 

" In the valley of the shadow of death," . . 



ARTIST 


PAGE 


F. Barnard, 


20 


E. F. Bre\vtnall 


28 


F. Barnard, 


29 


TowNLEY Green, 


30 


F. Barnard, 


31 


W. Small, . 


32 


F. Barnard, 


34 


Ditto, . 


34 


W. Small, . 


37 


F. Barnard, 


38 


Ditto, . 


44 


Ditto, . 


45 


E. F. Brewtnall 


51 


Townley Green 


, 54 


F. Barnard, 


55 


E. F. Brewtnall 


, 57 


F. Barn.ard, 


58 


Ditto, . 


59 


E. G. Dalziel, 


61 


F. Barnard, 


62 


Ditto, . 


62 


Ditto, . 


63 


Ditto, . 


64 


Ditto, . 


. 65 


J. Wolf, . 


66 


J. M'L. Ralston 


69 


Ditto, . 


74 


F. Barnard, 


79 


Ditto, . 


81 


E. G. Dalzeel, 


83 


(ix) 





LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



" He can now do little more than sit in his cave's mouth, grinning at pilgrims," 

Christian and Faithful join company, 

Discontent, 

Pride ; Arrogancy ; Self-Conceit ; Worldly-Glory, 

"A man whose name is Talkative," 

Christian enters the town of Vanity Fair, 

Lord Hate-good, 

TiiREK Witnesses : Envy, Superstition, Pickthaiik, 

The Ji'RY: Mr. Blind-man, Mr. No-good, Mr. Malice, Mr. Love-lust, Mr. Live-loose, 
Mr. Heady, Mr. High-mind, Mr. Enmity, ]Mr. Liar, Mr. Cruelty, Mr. Hate-light, 
and yi.r. Inii>lacable, ............ 

Faithful burned at the stake, 

Hopeful joins Christian, 

Mr. By-ends meets Hold-thc-World, Monc.y-love, and Save-all 

Christian and Hopeful are reminded of Lot's wife, 

Vain-confidence, 

Giant Despair, 

Christian and Hopeful in the castle of Giant Despair, 

Ignorance, 

"A man whom seven devils had bound," 

Faint-heart, Mi-strust and Guilt, attuck Little-Faith, 

Atheist laughing at Christian and Hopeful, 

" He said, No, for I was invited to come," 

" I am always full of good motions," 

"Thus they got over," 

" Christian brake out with a loud voice, ' Oh ! I see him again,' " . 

One of the King's Trumpeters, .......... 

" Then they took him up, and carried him through the air to the door that I saw in 
the side of the hill, and put him in there," 

Tail-Piece — The Dreamer awaking, 



ABTIST 


PACE 


F. Barnard, 


.S4 


TowNLEY Green, 


80 


F. Barnard, 


90 


Ditto, . 


91 


Ditto, . 


9.5 


Ditto, . 


104 


Ditto, . 


109 


F. Barnard, 


111 


Ditto, . 


11.3 


Ditto, . 


114 


TowNLEY Green 


116 


F. Barnard, 


119 


E. G. Dalziel, 


12.5 


F. Barnard, 


127 


Ditto, . 


131 


E. G. Dalziel, 


133 


F. Barnard, 


139 


Ditto, . 


139 


Ditto, . 


. 141 


Ditto, . 


. 140 


Ditto, . 


. 152 


Ditto, . 


. 156 


Ditto, . 


. 166 


E. G. Dalziel, 


. 167 


Ditto, . 


. 169 


E. F. Brewtnall 


, 171 


F. Barnard. 


172 



PART IL 



Heading — Bunyan in Bedford Jail, 

The Author and Mr. Sagacity, 

"Her thoughts began to work in her mind," 

Christiana opens her mind to her Children, . 

" ' Well, I .see you have a mind to go a-fooling too,' " 

Mrs. TiMORors's Neioiibors : — Mrs. Bat's-eyes, Mrs. Inconsiderate, Mrs. Light- 
mind and ]\Irs. Know-nothing, 

"' Come, let us venture, only let us be wary,' " 

The King's Trumpeter, . 

Mercy fallen in a swoon at the Wicket Gate, 

The ill-favored ones, 

" So Christiana's boys, as boys are apt to do, being pleased with the trees, and the 
fruit that did hang thereon, did plash them, and began to cat," . 



F. Barnard, . 177 
Ditto, . . .185 
Ditto, . . .186 

E. F. Brewtnall, 187 

F. Barnard, . 192 

Ditto, . . .193 
Ditto, . . .197 
J. D. Linton, . 199 
J. M'L. Kalston, 201 
F. Barnard, . 204 

E. F. Brewtnall, 205 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Innocent, 

"A man that could look no way but downwards, with a muck-rake in his hand," . 

Mr. Great-heart, 

Short-wind, 

No-heart, 

Sleepy-head, .......... .... 

Giant Grim, 

" I went on bemoaning the hardness of my heart," 

Prudence questions Christiana's Children, 

Mr. Brisk, 

Doctor Skill 

The Shepherd Boy, 

Heedless, 

Giant Maul, .............. 

Old Honest, 

Mr. Fearing, 

Self-will, 

Gains, 

Taste-that-which-is-good, ............ 

Mercy and Matthew, ............. 

" Mercy, asher custom was, would be making coats and garments to give to the poor," 
Mr. Feeble-Mind and jMr. Rcady-to-Halt, ......... 

Despondency, 

Much-afraid, .............. 

Prejudice, ............... 

Ill-will, 

Turn-Away Resisting Evangelist, 

Wild-head, . .' 

Valiant-for- truth, . 

Madam Bubble and Mr. Stand-fast, 

Christiana Passes over the River to the Celestial City, 



AKTIST PAGE 

F. Barnard, . 208 

Ditto, . . .211 

J. D. Linton, 219 

F. Barnard, . 223 

Ditto, . . .223 

Ditto, . . .223 

Ditto, . . .227 

Ditto, . . .231 

E. F. Brewtnall, 233 

F. Barnard, . 235 
Ditto, . . . 239 

E. F. Brkwtnall, 247 

F. BARN.iRD, . 251 

Ditto, . . . 2-52 

J. D. Linton, . 257 

F. Barnard, . 259 

Ditto, . . .263 

Ditto, . . .266 

Ditto, . . .267 

Ditto, . . .270 

E. F. Brewtnall, 271 

F. Barnard, . 275 
Ditto, . . .286 
Ditto, . . .286 
Ditto, . . .289 
Ditto, . . .289 
Ditto, . . .293 
Ditto, . . .294 
J. D. Linton, . 297 
F. Barnard, . 305 
E. F. Brewtnall, 309 












INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 




HE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS" is, without question, of all uninspired volumes, 
the most extraonlinary liook in the English language. Regard being had to the 
condition of its author, and the circumstances connected with its production, to 
its widespread popularity, and its suitableness for readers of every class, there is 
none to compare with it. 

AVe shall probably find few readers who are not already acquainted with the 

leading facts of Biinyan's life ; and to whom a record of them would not appear 

like the rehearsal of an old story. It may sufSce, therefore, if we present, in few 

words, such a summary as will refresh the memory, dwelling only on those which are 

fitted to shed a little light on his immortal production. 

Born at Elslow in Bedfordshire in 1628, of parents who belonged to the humbler 
walks of life, he received little early education worthy of the name; but grew up in the 
ignorance which was then, and in England is still, common to his class. At an early age 
he learned the trade of tinker, and by that occupation earned his livelihood for a few 
years. • U[) to the time of his first marriage he lived, if not a desperately profligate, yet 
a thoroughly godless and openly wicked life. And though the character and conversation of his 
wife exerted a restraining influence, and awoke in him some desire for reformation, no real, and 
but little apparent, change took place until some time afterwards, when he became the subject of 
converting grace. The deep experiences through which he had passed in connection with this 
change, combined with his natural gifts, qualified him for profitably addressing others; and he 
very soon began, in an irregular way at first, to exercise the ministry, which ultimately became 
his sole occupation, and in which he obtained to a proficiency unsurpassed by any preacher 
of his time. His preaching, and consequent absence from the parish church, attracted the 
notice of the ecclesiastical authorities of the neighborhood, at whose instigation he was thrown 
into prison for twelve years, where he tagged laces to support his wife and blind child, and 
conceived and wrote the wonderful allegory by which he has ranked himself forever among the 
peers of the intellectual world, and secured for himself an ever-widening and undying fame. After 
his release he preached with great acceptance and usefulness, statedly at Bedford, occasionally in 
London and elsewhere; and composed and published various other works of great practical useful- 
ness, some of which would no doubt have attained to a wide popularity had they not been eclipsed 
by his greatest ])roduction. He diligently prosecuted his labors until he was sixty years of age, 
when a severe cold caught in the discharge of a ministerial duty — a journey which he took for the 
purpose of reconciling a father and sou who had quarrelled — abruptly terminated his life. 

( 13 ) 



14 INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 

In the circumstances we have thus briefly narrated — especially in his imprisonment — some 
writers see the discipline and training which were necessary to fit him for writing " The Pilgrim's 
Progress." But though we cannot question that whatsoever God did for him and whatsoever men 
were permitted to do, had some effect in fitting him for whatever work he was destined to perform, 
it seems to us that such a discovery is but one of numerous instances in whicli men are wise after 
the event, and that Bunyan's great work is not to be accounted for except by a profounder phi- 
losophy than such writers bring to the task. Few beforehand would have ventured to predict, from 
anything in the antecedents of the man Bunyan, that he would be able to produce such a book ; or 
that anything in his circumstances and upbringing and parentage would produce such a man. He 
is a great creation, no more to be accounted for in such a manner than is the creation of a world. 
Antecedents conduce to, but do not account for. it. He is a phenomenon only to be understood on 
the principle that God, by a process which we cannot trace, and sometimes by means whicli appear 
to us unsuitable, raises up great men for the performance of great works. N(it only does He make 
the foolish things of the world to confound the wise, and the weak to confound the mighty, but 
gives us to find both wisdom and strength where such qualities are least likely to exist. 

It is a fact significant of the nature of the times, that Christian England, which ought to have 
been proud to rank him among her favored sons, had no better treatment for this man than the most 
relentless persecution, no better home for twelve years than a damp cell in the gaol which stood on 
the bridge over the Ouse at Bedford. His crime, as we have intimated, was that of absenting him- 
self from the Established Church, and holding meetings where he preached the gospel, and conducted 
worship in a manner which appeared to him more in accordance than the established service with 
New Testament principles — one of the worst crimes, in the estimation of the authorities, of Wuich a 
man could be guilty. On the warrant of a Justice he was apprehended at a meeting in Sansell, and, 
no bail being found, was thrown into prison to await his trial, which took place seven weeks after- 
wards. His indictment set forth that "John Bunyan, of the town of Bedford, laborer, hath devil- 
ishly and |)erniciously abstained from coming to church to hear Divine service, and is a common 
upholder of several unlawful meetings and conventicles, to the great disturbance and distraction of 
the good subjects of this kingdom, contrary to the laws of our sovereign lord the king." On this 
indictment, without any examination of witnesses, he was found guilty. Justice Keeling, in a 
savage tone strangely unbecoming in a judge passing .sentence, said, " Hear your judgment : you 
must be had back to prison, and there lie for three months following. And at three months' end, if 
you do not submit to go to church to hear Divine service, and leave your preaching, you must be 
banished the realm ; or be found to come back again without special license from the king, you must 
stretch by the neck for it, I tell you plainly. Jailor, take him away." 

Bunyan's reply was as worthy of his Christian character as the judge's manner was unworthy of 
his exalted office., All that he had to say in answer to such brutal browbeating was, " If I was out 
of prison to-day, I would preach again to-morrow, by the help of God ! " Such a man was evidently 
not to be frightened cither by frowns or by threats; so they had him back to prison, of which he had 
already tasted the sweets. But not all the horrors of prison — not the pain of separation from his 
wife and four children, could move his dauntless soul. He felt that separation most keenly — no 
man could have felt it more. Especially was he solicitous about his blind daughter, to whom he was 
all the more tenderly attached becau.se of her helplessness. " Poor child, thouglit I ; wliat sorrow 
art thou like to have for thy portion in this world ! Thou must be beaten, nmst beg, suffer hunger, 
cold, nakedness, and a thousand calamities, though I cannot now endure the wind should blow upon 
thee! Oh, the hardships I thought my blind one might go under woidd break my heart in pieces." 
Still he did not falter, for he could commit her as well as himself to God ; and God's peace was with 



INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE A UTHOR. 15 

him. " Verily, as I was going forth out of the doors, I had much ado to forbear saying to them that 
I carried the peace of God along with me ; and, blessed be the Lord, I went away to prison with 
God's comfort in my poor soul ! " 

His case seems to have given some trouble to the Justices. He was had up before them re- 
peatedly, and always remanded. They were either unwilling or afraid to carry out Justice Reeling's 
threat of banishment. And as their prisoner would not promise to change his course, they kept 
him where he was. His friends interceded for him. His wife, who was of a kindred spij-it witii 
himself, came to London with a petition for his release, and had it presented to the House of Lords. 
Although " a delicate young woman of retiring habits," she appeared before the Judges and pleaded 
his cause "in language worthy of the most talented counsel." But all their efforts were in vain. 
The one condition on which his release could be granted was the condition with which the prisoner 
would not comply. " Will your husband leave preaching?" said Judge Twisden to his wife; "if 
he will do so, then send for him." " My Lord," she replied, " he dares not leave preaching, so long 
as he can speak." " My principles," says Bunyan on another occasion, "are such as lead me to a 
denial to communicate in the things of the kingdom of Christ with ungodly and open profane; 
neither can I, in or by the superstitious inventions of this world consent that my soul should be 
governed in any of my approaches to God, because commanded to the contrary, and commended for 
so refusing. Wherefore, excepting this one thing, for which I ought not to be rebuked, I shall, I 
trust, in despite of slander and falsehood, discover myself as a peaceable and obedient subject. But 
if nothing will do unless I make my conscience a continual butchery and slaughter shop — unless, 
putting out mine own eyes, I commit me to the blind to lead me (as I doubt is desired by some) — I 
have determined, the Almighty God being my help and shield, yet to suffer, and if frail life shall 
continue so long, even till the moss shall grow on mine eyebrows, rather than violate my faith and 
|)rinciples." 

He lay in prison for more than twelve years. Twelve years ! How easy to write the words ; how 
difficult to grasp all that they mean ! The fifth part of his life at the season when life was in its 
prime — when his appreciation of nature was keenest — when free exercise would have proved the 
greatest luxury to a stalwart frame like his — when he would have entered with the greatest zest into 
home enjoyments — when his physical system was full of bounding life and capable of acting with the 
greatest vigor — the fifth ]iart of his life spent within the limits of a dungeon — the little cell which 
he aptly calls his den ! What a testimony to the heroic endurance of tiie man ! What a testimony 
to his country's disgrace ! It is sad to think that England, with her Christian constitution, had no 
better treatment than this for one of her noblest sons, whose worth, blinded as she was by flunkeyisms 
and debaucheries in high places, she was unable to recognize. 

To Bunyan it mattered little what they did. Happier far was he in prison than the clergyman 
in his living, or the bishop in his palace, or the king on his throne. Yea, it may be questioned if in 
all England there was a man so happy or so much to be envied as that prisoner on Bedford bridge. 
The " God's peace " — " God's comfort " — of which he speaks as dwelling in his " poor soul," is not 
dependent on place or circumstances, cannot be disturbed by the treatment he receives. He who 
hath it can defy the persecutor's rage. Do to him what you will — strip him of his possessions and 
friends — drive him into exile — make him a homeless wanderer — he is happier in his penury and 
homelessness, than others in the abundance of their wealth and comfort. If, by prison walls, Bunyan 
was shut out from nature's beauty — from daylight and the fragrant air — still he has left to him God 
and himself. The soul's freedom is unimpaired. It can soon soar above all restraint and enjoy 
Divine fellowship. No prison walls are so thick that prayer caaaot pierce them. No dungeon 
gloom so dark that it may not be radiated with celestial light. 



16 INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 

" Stone walls do not a prison make, 
Nor iron bars a cage ; 
Minds innocent and quiet take 
That for a hermitage. 

"For though men keep my outward man 
Within their locks and bars, 
Yet by the faith of Christ I can 
Mount higher than the stars." 

These were no meaningless sounds to iiim — no poetical expression of the feelings which he 
supposetl might be experienced — no rhapsodical or exaggerated description of what he actually felt. 
Poetry apart, he elsewhere tells iis of the glorious visions with which he was favored there. " O 
the Mount Zion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable company of angels, and God the judge 
of all; Jesus the mediator, and the spirits of just men made perfect! I have seen here what I 
never can express. I have felt tiie truth of that Scripture ' Whom having not ^een, ye love; in 
Whom, though now ye see Him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory.' " 
Most of the day was spent in " tagging laces," with his blind girl by his side — an employment which 
he learned in prison, that thereby he might iieip to support his family. But when evening came, 
and the child was dismissed to her home with a parting benediction, his soul, free to soar where it 
listed, saw those glorious visions, and indulged iu those pious meditations which are embodied in his 
immortal work. He had but to close his eyes, and he was no more the prisoner, but the pilgrim 
whose progress he so graphically describes. Bedford gaol fades away, and his unfettered soul stands 
on some mount of vision where, from its commencement to its close, the course of his pilgrim lies 
open to his view. There he sees the City of Destruction, and remembers how he left it with the 
burdeu on his back — the Slough of Despond, and the overhanging hill near the house of Mr. Legality, 
with its deep rifts and flashing fires. He recalls his entrance at the wicket-gate — his visit to the 
Interpreter's house — his rapture wlien, standing at the foot of the Cross and gazing on the Crucified, 
his burden fell from his shoulders and he was free. Again he is entertained at the Palace Beautiful, 
finds there refreshment and repose, and at break of day wakes up singing in the chamber whose 
name is Peace. Or he wanders among the Delertable Mountains with the shepherds for his com- 
panions; and from the hill Clear, looking through the glass of faith, discerns in the distance the 
pearly gates, and golden turrets, and jasper walls, that surround the City of the Blest. Or he dwells 
iu the land of Beulah, where, not in imagination only, but in reality, his soul summers even now, 
ripening for the heaven which is so near that already he inhales its fragrance, and walks in its light, 
and holds converse with its shining ones — where the sun shineth night and day, and the birds sing 
continually, and the flowers are ever fresh and fair, and the voice of the turtle is heard in the land. 
Or, the river crossed, he climbs the hill which leads up to the gate of the City, or rather glides 
upward; for the shining ones have clasped his hands, and the burden of mortality left in the river 
no more clogs the movements of the ascending soul. The gates open at his approach — the trumpets 
sound in honor of his coming. The bells of the city " ring again for joy." "Angels meet him with 
harp and crown, and give him the harp to praise withal and the crown iu token of honor." And 
the hosts of the glorified standing round welcome him with acclamations to their exalted fellowship, 
saying, "Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." 

All these are real to him — more real than the prison walls that surround him, or his prison 
garb, or prison fare. These are but the illusions which shall vanish ; those the realities which shall 
endure. And, being so vividly presented to his mind, he is constrained to imprint them on iiis page. 
Rousing himself from his reverie, but with beaming eye and radiant countenance, for " he writes as 



INTR OD UCl OR Y NO TICE OF THE A UTHOR. 17 

if joy did make him write," he flings from his graphic and fluent pen those vivid, brilliant pictures, 
over which, after his persecutors have perished, and his prison walls have crumbled into dust, and 
the painful circumstances of his earthly life have receded into the dim and distant past, — in many 
lands and throughout all generations — in the closet and the chamber — in the solitary hut and the 
crowded city — young and old, rich and poor, learned and illiterate, shall bend with ever fresh 
delight. 

Without question Bunyan's imprisonment was made conducive for the furtherance of the gospel. 
The providence which controls the wrath of man, and makes it contribute to its own purposes, so 
overruled the malice of his persecutors, as to make it serve the cause which they sought to destroy. 
Not only may we see the Divine hand, in the fact that Bunyan's imprisonment afforded him leisure 
for the composition of those works which have made his name immortal ; but an overruling Provi- 
dence is specially seen in some of the circumstances which facilitated his work. Cruelties such as 
were perpetrated in other prisons would probably have shortened his days, or at least have rendered 
writing and st'tiy impossible ; but in the gaol at Bedford where he was confined, though the place 
was loathsome in the extreme, the jailor treated the prisoners with such humanity that he incurred 
the displeasure of the Justices. Bunyan was allowed to visit his family occasionally, and it was on 
one of his visits that the circumstance occurred which most people would consider peculiarly provi- 
dential. A neighboring priest heard of his absence from prison, and immediately despatched a 
messenger that he might bear witness against the jailor. Meanwhile Bunyan, feeling uneasy at home, 
had returned to prison sooner than was intended, so that when the messenger demanded, " Are all 
the prisoners safe?" the jailor could answer " Yes." " Is John Bunyan safe? " " Yes." Bunyan, 
on being called, appeared ; and, said the jailor afterwards, " You may go out when you will, for you 
know much better when to return than I can tell you." Thus were his health and life preserved, 
and the man who was forbidden to speak to a few assembled in a peasant's cottage, furnished with 
facilities for writing a book by which he speaks to millions in every land, and through all succeeding 
generations; while the men who sought to silence him have been all but forgotten. So do the 
enemies of the gospel frustrate their own schemes. So does the right live on, emerging into ever- 
increasing splendor, while the wrong sinks into merited oblivion. 

The acceptance which his " I'ilgrim's Progress" has met with is altogether unparalleled. 
During the Author's lifetime many copies are said to have been circulated in England — and that 
was at a time when books and readers were comparatively scarce. Several editions — some of them 
got up, as booksellers would say, in very superior style — were published in North America, and 
translations were issued in French and Flemish, Dutch, Welsh, Gaelic, and Irish. Nor does time 
show any abatement of its popularity. Among all the competitors for public favor which have since 
issued from the press, it retains its pre-eminence. There is scarcely a known language into which 
it has not been rendered. Wherever English is spoken it is familiar as a household word. Not- 
withstanding the millions in circulation, and the new editions which are constantly api)earing, 
publishers can still reckon on a sale of hundreds of thousands for one edition alone. It appears in 
all forms, and is read by all classes. Richly illustrated and elegantly bound, it adorns the drawing- 
room tables of the wealthy. Well-thuinbed and sometimes tattered, as if from constant, if not 
careless, usage, it lies on the shelf or the window-sill of the poor. Children are entranced with the 
interest of the story ; its tranquil or gloomy scenes, its pictures of danger and conflict — of triumph 
and despair. Men too illiterate to account for the fascination, are attracted to its pages. And 
learned men, who have little sympathy with its religious purpose, feel the spell of its genius, and 
are compelled to admire it for the beauty or the awfulness of its creations, its vivid embodiments, 
its clear insight and keen satire, its terse Saxon style. The young Christian, just starting on his 

3 



18 INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 

course, reads it for guidauce and encouragement in liis own conflicts and perils; and the aged saint 
lingering for a while on the river's brink, liefore the messenger summons him into the presence of 
the King, testifies to the accuracy with which it pictures the serene and mellowed joys of the land of 
Boulah — the celestial air which the pilgrim breathet^, the celestial fragrance which is wafted from on 
high, the celestial visitants with whom he holds converse as he nears his journey's end; and the 
dull eve brightens, and the withered countenance glows with rapture, as, by the pilgrim's passage 
of the river, and entrance at the gates, he is led to anticipate his own. It is wonderful that any 
man should liave written a book of such universal and enduring popularity. More wonderful still 
that it should have been written in prison by an uneducated tinker, the descendant of a vagrant 
tribe — written spontaneously and unconsciously — not as an effort, but as a relief from mental fulness 
— as the thoughts came crowding up in all their freshness in an untrained but singularly original 
and fertile mind. 

With all its popularity and excellence, it is easy to see that the book is not without faults. Its 
theology, scriptural in the main, is colored by his own experience. The long and painful journey 
which Christian makes with his burden before he finds relief at the cross, though it accords with 
fact often, is somewhat at variance with the Scripture ideal. The Second Part shows some improve- 
ment on the First in this respect; but there, too, the cross is placed too far on the way. It should 
have been at the wicket-gate, and not at the further side of the Interpreter's house ; for there is 
reidly no true progress heavenward until the cross is seen. As an allegory, moreover, it presents, as 
it could scarcely fail, some obvious inconsistencies. The wicket-gate is the proper entrance to the 
pilgrim's course; and yet Hopeful enters it not througli the wicket-gate, but at Vanity Fair, which 
is far on the way. Faithful, again, leaves it not by the river, which represents death, but is taken 
up in a chariot of fire. These and such like discrepancies are obvious to every reader ; and the best 
excuse for them is that his purpose rendered them unavoidable. It was not possible by any consistent 
allegory to set forth so many distinct phases of spiritual life. 

The wonder is not that there are inconsistencies in the allegory, but that these are so few and 
the beauties of the book so manifold. " It is the highest miracle of genius," says Macaulay, " that 
things which are not should be as though they were, that the imagination of one mind should become 
the personal recollections of another. And this miracle the tinker has wrought. There is no ascent, 
no declivity, no resting- place, no turnstile, with which we are not perfectly acquainted." His characters, 
though some of them are mere embodiments of abstract qualities, are painted with equal vividness. 
They are marked with individuality as much as if they were real personages who had -sat for their 
portraits. There is no danger of our mistaking one for another; and such is the impression they 
produce on our minds, that, when once we have made acquaintance with them, they are not easily 
forgotten. Stern as he is in his treatment of wrong, and especially in peeling oiF the skin from 
sanctimonious villainy, what a depth of tenderne.ss there is in his nature, and what a keen apprecia- 
tion of the beautiful he now and again displays! When he writes of Christiana in the Second Part 
there is a perceptible softening in his tone; and the incidentsof the journey are suited to the delicacy 
of woman and the tenderness of youth ; for the writer knew well, and had him.self imbibed, the 
spirit of Him " Who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb" — " Who gathers the lambs in His arms, 
and carries them in His bo.som." The quiet beauty of some of his scenes, and the soft light which 
falls on them, is perfectly charming; and all the more noticeable as contrasted with the lurid 
grandeur of others. What a sweet picture is that Palace Beautiful, with its waiting damsels and its 
chamber of peace — " the country birds that, in the spring-time, sing all day long in a most curious, 
melodious note," one carolling, as Christiana listens with words much like these : 



And another responding, — 



INTR OD UCTOR Y NO TICE OF THE A UTHOR. 19 

" Through all my life Thy favor is 
So frankly showed to me, 
That in Thy house for evermore 
My dwelling-place shall be." 



" For why ? The Lord our God is good ; 
His mercy is for ever sure : 
His truth at all times firmly stood, 
And shall from age to age endure." 



Not less lovely, when Christiana passes through, is the Valley of Humiliation, green and fertile, and 
" beautified with lilies," where " our Lord formerly had his country house, and loved to walk the 
meadows, for he found the air was pleasant," where " laboring men have good estates," where the 
shepherd boy doth sing his artless song, giving utterance to his heart's content, — 

" He that is down needs fear no fall ; 
He that is poor no pride ; 
He that is humble ever shall 
Have God to be his guide." 

And that land of Beulah, so near the gates of the city with only the river between, where the pilgrim, 
after the toils of the way, rests and ripens for glory, is so vividly presented to us, that, forgetting 
our surroundings, we can sometimes fancy ourselves in it, soothed and refreshed by its delicious in- 
fluences, bathed in its golden light, and breathing its balmy air. And the Celestial City itself, shin- 
ing like the sun, with its bells and trumpets, its golden pavement, its white-robed inhabitants, wearing 
crowns and waving palms, with " harps to play withal " — what reader does not feel as if he stood 
with the writer looking in at the open gate, and, .sympathizing with his desire, when carried away by 
his own imaginings, he says, "which, when I had seen, I wished myself among them." 

But time would fail and space forbids us to expatiate on the beauties of the book. The more 
we study it, the more do we feel how much it deserves its matchless popularity ; and the more 
cordially do we commend it to the careful perusal of our readers. Our desire and prayer is, that 
some of them may be influenced by Bunyan's pleasant companionship and wise guidance to commence, 
or, if they have commenced already, to persevere in and complete the pilgrimage which he so 
graphically describes. 



tixmM 





"As I slept, I droamed a dream.' 



(20) 



THE 



AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK. 

HEN at the first I took my pen in band 
Tims for to write, I did not understand 
That I at all should make a little book 
In suL'li a mode; nay, I had undertook 
To make another; which when almost done, 
Before I was aware, I this bej^un. 

And thus it was: I, writing; of the way 
And race of saints, in this our Gospel day, 
Fell suddenly into an allegory 
About their journey, and the way to glory, 
In more than twenty things which I set down : 
This done, I twenty more had in my crown ; 
And they again began to multiply, 
Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly. 
Nay, then, thought I, if that you breed so fast, 
I'll ])ut you by yourselves, lest you at last 
Should prove ad infinitum, and eat out 
The book that I already am about. 
Well, so I did ; but yet I did not think 
To show to all the worlil my pen and ink 
In such a mode; I only thought to make 
I knew not what: nor did I undertake 
Thereby to plea-^e my neighbor : no, not I ; 
I did it my own self to gratify. 

Neither did I but vacant seasons spend 
In this my scribble; nor did I intend 
But to divert myself in doing this 
From worser thoughts which make me do amiss 
Thus I set pen to paper with delight. 
And quickly had my thoughts in black and white : 
For, having now my method by the end. 
Still as I pulled, it came; and so I penned 
It down ; until it came at last to be. 
For length and breadth, the bigness which you see. 

Well, when I thus had put mine ends together, 
I showed them others, that I might see whether 
They would condemn them or them justify : 



(21) 



22 THE A UTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS B OK. 

And some said, " Let them live ; " some, " Let them die ; ' 
Some said, " John, print it ; " others said, " Not so ; " 
Some said " It might do good ; " others said, " No." 

Now was I in a strait, and did not see 
Wiiich was the best thing to be done by me : 
At last I thought, Since ye are thus divided, 
I print it will, and so the case decided. 
For, thought I, some, I see, would have it done, 
Though others in that channel do not run : 
To prove, then, who advised for the best, 
Thus I thought fit to put it to the test. 

I further thought, if now I did deny 
Those that would have it, these to gratify, 
I did not know but hinder them I might 
Of that which would to them be great delight. 

For those which were not for its coming forth,. 
I said to them. Offend you I am loth. 
Yet, since your brethren pleased with it be. 
Forbear to judge till you do further see. 

If that thou wilt not read, let it alone : 
Some love the meat, some love to pick the bone. 
Yea, that I might them better palliate, 
I did too with them thus expostulate : 
" May I not write in such a style as this? 
In such a method, too, and yet not miss 
My end — thy good ? Why may it not be done? 
Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright bring none. 
Yea, dark or bright, if they their silver drops 
Cause to descend, the earth, by yielding crops. 
Gives praise to both, and carpeth not at either, 
But treasures up the fruit they yield together ; 
Yea, so commixes both, that in their fruit 
None can distinguish this from that: they suit 
Her well when hungry ; but, if she be full, 
She spews out both, and makes their blessings null. 

You see the ways the fisherman doth take 
To catch the fish ; what engines doth he make ! 
Behold how he engageth all his wits ; 
Also his snares lines, angles hooks and nets : 
Yet fish there be that neither hook, nor line. 
Nor snare, nor net, nor engine can make thine : 
They must be groped for, and be tickled too, 
Or they will not be catched, whate'er you do. 

How does the fowler seek to catch his game 
By divers means ! all which one cannot name : 
His guns, his nets, his lime-twigs, light, and bell; 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK. 23 

He creeps, he goes, he stands; yea, who can tell 

Of all his postures? Yet there's none of these 

Will make hiin master of what fowls he please. 

Yea, he must pipe and whistle to catch this; 

Yet, if he does so, that bird he will miss. 
If that a pearl may in a toad's head dwell, 

And may be found too in an oyster-shell ; 

If things that promise nothing do contain 

What better is than gold ; who will disdain, 

That have an inkling of it, there to look. 

That they may find it? Now, my little book 

(Though void of all these paintings that may make 

It with this or the other man to take) 

Is not without those things that do excel 
What do in brave but empty notions dwell. 
" Well, yet I am not fully satisfied 
That this your book will stand, when soundly tried." 

Why, what's the matter? " It is dark." What though ? 
" But it is feigned." What of that? I trow 
Some men, by feigned words, as dark as mine 
Make truth to spangle and its rays to shine. 
" But they want solidness." Speak, man, thy mind. 
"They drown the weak ; metaphors make us blind." 
Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen 
Of him that writeth things divine to men ; • 

But must I needs want solidness, because 
By metaphors I speak ? Were not God's laws, 
His Gospel laws, in olden time held forth 
By types, shadows, and metaphors? Yet loth 
Will any sober man be to find fault 
With them, lest he be found for to assault 
The highest wisdom. No, he rather stoops, 
And seeks to find out by what pins and loops, 
By calves and sheep, by heifers and by rams, 
By birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs, 
God speaketh to him ; and happy is he 
That finds the light and grace that in them be. 

Be not too forward, therefore, to conclude 
That I want solidness — that I am rude : 
All things solid in show not solid be ; 
All things in parables despise not we ; 
Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive. 
And things that good are, of our souls bereave. 
My dark and cloudy words, they do but hold 
The truth, as cabinets enclose the gold. 
The prophets used much by metaphors 



24 THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK. 

To set forth truth ; yea, whoso considers 
Christ, His apostles too, shall plainly see 
That truths to this day in such mantles be. 

Am I afraid to say that Holy Writ, 
Which for its style and phrase puts down all wit. 
Is everywhere so full of all these things — 
Dark figures, allegories? Yet there springs 
From that same Book, that lustre, and those rays 
Of light, that turn our darkest nights to days. 

Come, let my car|)er to his life now look, 
And find there darker lines than in my book 
He findeth any ; yea, and let him know 
That in his best things there are worse lines too. 

May we but stand before impartial men, 
To his poor one I durst adventure ten 
That they will take my meaning in these lines 
Far better than his lies in silver shrines. 
Come, truth, although in swaddling clouts, I find, 
Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind ; 
Pleases the understanding; makes the will 
Submit; the memory also it doth fill 
With what doth our imagination please ; 
Likewise it tends our troubles to appease. 

Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use. 
And old wives' fables he is to refuse ; 
But yet grave Paul him nowhere doth forbid 
The use of parables; in which lay hid 
That gold, those pearls, and precious stones, that were 
Worth digging for, and that with greatest care. 
Let me add one word more. O man of God, 
Art thou offended ? Dost thou wish I had 
Put forth my matter in another dress ? 
Or that I had in things been more express? 
Three things let me propound ; then I submit 
To those that are my betters, as is fit. 

1. I find not that I atn denied the use 
Of this my method, so I no abuse 
Put on the words, things, readers ; or be rude 
In handling figure or similitude, 
In application; but, all that I may 
Seek the advance of truth this or that way. 
Denied, did I say? Nay, I have leave 
(Example too, and that from them that have 
God better pleased, by their words or ways, 
Than any man that breatheth now-a-days) 
Thus to express ray mind, thus to declare 
Things unto thee that excel lentest are. 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK. 25 

2. I find that men as high as trees will write 
Dialogue- wise; yet no man doth them slight 
For writing so: indeed, if they abuse 

Truth, cursed be they, and the craft they use 
To that intent ; i)nt yet let truth be free 
To make her sallies upon thee and me 
Which way it pleases God ; for who knows how 
Better than He who taught us first to plough. 
To guide our minds and pens for His design ? 
And He makes base things usher in divine. 

3. I find that Holy Writ in many places 
Hath semblance with this method, where the cases 
Do call for one thing, to set forth another. 

Use it I may, then, and yet nothing smother 
Truth's golden beams : nay, by this method may 
Make it cast f )rth its rays as light as day. 

And now, i)efore I do put up my pen, 
I'll show the profit of my book, and then 
Commit l)Oth thee and it unto that Hand 
That pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones stand. 

This book it chalketh out before thine eyes 
The man that seeks the everlasting prize ; 
It shows you whence lie comes, whither he goes ; 
What he leaves undone, also what he does ; 
It also shows you how he runs and runs 
Till he unto the gate of glory comes. 
It shows, too, who set out for life amain, 
As if the lasting crown they would obtain; 
Here also you may see the reason why 
I'hey lose their labor, and like fools do die, 

This l)ook will make a traveller of thee, 
If by its counsels thou wilt ruled be : 
It will direct thee to the Holy Land, 
If thou wilt its directions understand : 
Yea, it will make the slothful active be; 
The blind also delightful things to see. 

Art thou for something rare and profitable? 
Or wouldst thou see a truth within a fable? 
Art thou forgetful ? Or wouldst thou remember 
Frotn New Year's Day to the last of December? 
Then read my fancies: they will stick like burrs, 
And may be, to the helpless, comforters. 

This book was writ in such a dialect 
As may the minds of listless men affect: 
It seems a novelty, and yet contains 
Nothing but sound and honest Gospel strains. 
4 



26 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK. 



Wouldst thou divert thyself from melancholy ? 
Wonldst thmi he pleasant, yet he far from folly ? 
Would.st thou read riddles and their explanation ? 
Or else be drowned in thy contemplation? 
Dost thou love picking meat? Or wouldst thou see 
A man i' the clouds, and hear him speak to thee ? 
Wouldst thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep ? 
Or wouldst thou in a moment laugh and weep? 
Wouldst thou lose thyself, and catch no harm ? 
And find thyself again without a charm ? 
Wouldst read thyself, and read thou know'st not what. 
And yet know whether thou art blest or not, 
By reading the same lines? Oh, then come hither. 
And lay my book, thy head, and heart together. 

John Bunyan. 




Zoar Chapel, Southwark. 



THE PILGETM'S PEOGEESS. 

PART I. 



(27) 




Cheistiax, as seen by Bunyan in his Dream. 
" I saw a man clothed with rags." 



28> 




CHAPTEE I. 




S I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place 
where was a den,* and laid me down in that place to sleep; and, as I slept, I 
dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and behold, I saw a man clothed with rags, 
standing in a certain place, with his face from his own house, a book in his 
hand, and a great burden upon his back.^^ I looked, and saw him open the book, and 
read therein ; and as he read, he wept and trembled ; and, not being able longer to 
contain, he brake out with a lamentable cry, saying, " What shall I do? " ^ 

In this plight, therefore, he went home, and restrained himself as long as he could, 
that his wife and children should not perceive his distress ; but he could not be silent 
lung, because that his trouble increased. Wherefore at length he brake his miud to 
his wife and children ; and thus he began to talk to them : " O my dear wife," said he, 
" and you the children of my bowels, I, your dear friend, am in myself undone by 
reason of a burden that lieth hard upon me ; moreover, I am certainly informed that 
this our city will be burned with fire from heaven ; in which fearful overthrow, both 
myself, with thee, my wife, and you, my sweet babes, shall miserably come to ruin, 
except (the which yet I see not) some way of escape can be found whereby we may be 
delivered." At this his relations were sore amazed ; not for that they believed that 
what he had said to them was true, but because they thought that some frenzy dis- 
temper had got into his head ; therefore, it drawing towards night, and they hoping 
that sleep might settle his brains, with all haste they got him to bed. But the night 
was as troublesome to him as the day; wherefore, instead of sleeping, he spent it in 
sighs and tears. So when the morning was come, they would know how he did. He 



* Bedford jail in which Bunyan was twelve years a prisoner. 
t See references to the Bible at the end. 



(29) 




CHEISTIAjr TELLS HIS WiFE ASD ChILDRES OF HIS DISTRESS. 
" At length he brake his mind to his wife and children." 



f3P 



CHRISTIAN'S DISTRESS OF MIXD. 



31 



told them, Worse and worse ; be also set to talking to them again ; but they began to 
be hardened. They also thought to drive away his distemper by harsh and surly 
carriage to him : sometimes they would deride, sometimes they would chide, and some- 
times they would quite neglect him. Wherefore he began to retire himself to his 
chamber, to pray for and pity them, and also to condole his own misery; he would also 
walk solitary in the fields, sometimes reading, and sometimes praying ; and thus for 
some days he spent his time. 

Xow, I saw, upon a time, when he was walking iu the fields, that he was (as he was 
wont) reading in his book, and greatly distressed in his mind : and as he read, he burst 
out as he had done before, crying, " What 
shall I do to be saved ? " * 

I saw also that he looked this way and that 
way, as if he would ruu ; yet he stood still, 
because (as I perceived) he could not tell 
which way to go. I looked then, and saw a 
man named Evangelist coming to him, who 
asked, "Wherefore dost thou cry ? " 

He answered, "Sir, I perceive by the book 
lu my hand, that I am condemned to die, and 
after that to come to judgment;* and I find 
that I am not willing to do the first,* nor able 
to do the second." ^ 

Then said Evangelist, " Why not willing 
to die, since this life is attended with so raanv 
evils ? " The man answered, " Because I fear 
that this burden that is upon my back will 
sink me lower than the grave, and I shall fall 
into Tophet.* ' And, sir, if I be not fit to go 
to prison, I am not fit to go to judgment, and from thence to execution ; and the 
thoughts of these things make me cry." 

Then said Evangelist, "If this be thy condition, why standest thou still?" 

He answered, " Because I know not whither to go." Then he gave him a parchment 
roll, and there was written within, "Flee from the wrath to come."* 

The man, therefore, read it, and looking upon Evangelist very carefully, said, 
"Whither must I fly?" Then said Evangelist (pointing with his finger over a very 




"He began to retire Liiuself to UU cua.u'jer to pnv.' 



* TopJiet here uieaus hell. 




'MAi. 



;^^/^/^^ 



EVAXGELIST POINTS ChRISTiAX TO THE \ViCKET-GaTE. 
" Do you see yonder wicket-gate?'' 



(33) 



CHRISTIAN FLEES FROM THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION. 33 

wide field), " Do you see yonder wicket-gate?"" The man said, " No." Then said 
the other, " Do yon see yonder shining light? " '" He said, " I think I do." Then 
said Evangelist, "Keep that light in your eye, and go up directly thereto: so shalt 
thou see the gate; at which, when thou knockest, it shall be told thee what thou shalt 
do." So I saw in ray dreara that the man began to run. Now, he had not run far 
from his own door, when his wife and children perceiving it, began to cry after hini 
to return; but the man put his fingers in his ears, and ran on, crying, "Life! life! 
eternal life!" ^' So he looked not behind him,'" but fled towards the middle of the 
plain. 

The neighbors also came out to see him run ;''' and as he ran, some mocked, others 
threatened, and some cried after him to return ; and among those that did so there were 
two that resolved to fetch him back by force. The name of the one was Obstinate, 
and the name of the other Pliable. Now, by this time the man was got a good dis- 
tance from them ; but, however, they were resolved to pursue him, which they did, 
and in a little time they overtook him. Then said the man, " Neighbors, wherefore 
are ye come?" They said, "To persuade you to go back with us." But he said, 
" That can by no means be : you dwell," said he, " in the City of Destruction, the 
place also where I was born : I see it to be so ; and, dying there, sooner or later, you 
will sink lower than the grave, into a place that burns with fire and brimstone. Be 
content, good neighbors, and go along with me." 

Obst. " What ! " said Obstinate, " and leave our friends and comforts behind us ? " 

Chris. "Yes," said Christian (for that was his name), "because that all which you 
forsake is not worthy to be compared with a little of that I am seeking to enjoy ;" and 
if you would go along with me, and hold it, you shall fare as I myself; for there, 
where I go, is enough and to spare." Come away, and prove my words." 

Obst. What are the things you seek, since you leave all the world to find them ? 

Chris. I seek an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away,^*' 
and it is laid up in heaven, and safe there,'' to be bestowed, at the time appointed, on 
them that diligently seek it. Read it so, if you will, in my book. 

Obst. " Tush ! " said Obstinate, " away with your book : will you go back with us 
or no ? " 

Chris. "No, not I," said the other, "because I have put my hand to the plough."'* 

Obst. Come, then, neighbor Pliable, let us turn again, and go home without him : 
there is a company of these crazy-headed coxcombs, that, when they take a fancy by 
the end, are wiser in their own eyes than seven men that can render a reason. 

Pli. Then said Pliable, " Don't revile ; if what the good Christian says is true, the 

things he looks after are better than ours ; my heart inclines to go with my neighbor." 

5 



34 



IHE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 




Obstiuate. 



Obst. What ! more fools still ? Be ruled 
by me, and go back ; who knows whither such 
a brain-sick fellow will lead you ? Go back, 
go back, and be wise. 

Chris. Nay, but do thou come with thy 
neighbor Pliable ; there are such things to 
be had which I sjjoke of, and many more 
glories besides. If you believe not me, read 
here in this book ; and for the truth of what 
is expressed therein, behold, all is confirmed 
by the blood of Him that made it.^'-* 

Pli. " AVell, neighbor Obstinate," said Pli- 
able, " I begin to come to a point ; I intend 
to go along with this good man, and to cast in 
my lot with him. But, my good companion, 
do you know the way to this desired place ? " 

Chris. I am directed by a man, whose 
name is Evangelist, to speed me to a little 
gate that is before us, where we shall receive 



instructions about the way. 

Pli. Come, then, good neighbor, let us be going. 

Then they went both together. 

" And I will go back to my place," said Obstinate ; 
" I will be no companion of such misled, fantastical 
fellows." 

Now, I saw in my dream, that, when Obstinate 
was gone back. Christian and Pliable went talking 
over the plain ; and thus they began their discourse : 

Chris. Come, neighbor Pliable, how do you do ? 
I am glad you are persuaded to go along with me. 
Had even Obstinate himself but felt what I have felt 
of the powers and terrors of what is yet unseen, he 
would not thus lightly have given us the back. 

Pli. Come, neighbor Christian, since there are 
none but us two here, tell me now further what the 
things are, and how to be enjoyed, whither we are 
going. 




Plial.le. 



CHRISTIAN DISCOURSES WITH PLIABLE. 3-3 

Chris. I can better conceive of them with my mind than spealv of them v\'itli my 
tongue ; but yet, since you are desirous to know, I will read of them in my book. 

Pli. And do you think that the words of your book are certainly true? 

Chris. Yes, verily ; for it was made by Him that cannot lie.-'" 

Pli. Well said ; what things are they ? 

Chris. Tliere is an endless kingdom to be inhabited, and everlasting life to be given 
us, that we may inhabit that kingdom forever.-' 

Pli. Well said ; and what else ? 

Chris. There are crowns of glory to be given us, and garments that will make us 
shine like the sun in the firmament of heaven." 

Pli. This is very pleasant ; and what else ? 

Chris. There shall be no more crying, nor sorrow ; for he that is owner of the 
place will wipe all tears from our eyes.-^ 

Pli. And what company shall we have there ? 

Chris. There we shall be with seraphims and cherubims,-^ creatures that shall 
dazzle your eyes to look on them. There also you shall meet with thousands and ten 
thousands that have gone before us to that place ; none of them are hurtful, but [all] 
loving and holy ; every one walking in the sight of God, and standing in His presence 
with acceptance for ever. In a word, there we shall see the elders with their golden 
crowns;^'' there we shall see the holy virgins with, their golden harps;-'' there we shall 
see men that by the world were cut in pieces, burnt in flames, eaten of beasts, drowned 
in the seas, for the love they bear to the Lord of the place,'"' all well, and clothed with 
immortality as with a garment."** 

Pli. The hearing of this is enough to ravish one's heart. But are these things to 
be enjoyed? How shall we get to be sharers thereof? 

Chris. The Lord, the Governor of the country, hath recorded that in this book ;^ 
the substance of which is, If we be truly willing to have it, He will bestow it upon us 
freely. 

Pli. Well, my good companion, glad am I to hear of these things ; come on, let us 
mend our pace. 

Chris. I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason of this burden that is on my back. 

Now, I saw in my dream, that just as they had ended this talk, they drew nigh to a 
very miry slough, that was in the midst of the plain ; and they, being heedless, djd 
both fall suddeidy into the b»g. The name of the slough was Despond. Here, there- 
fore, they wallowed for a time, being grievously bedaubed with the dirt ; and Christian, 
because of the burden that was on his back, began to sink into the mire. 



36 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Pij. Then said Plial)li', "Ah ! neighbor Cliristian. where are yuu now?" 

Chris. "Truly," said Christian, "I do not know." 

Pj.i. At this Pliable began to be offended, and angrily said to his fellow, " Is this 
the happiness you have told me all this while of? If we have such ill s])eed at our 
first setting out, what may we expect between this and our journey's end? jMay I 
get out again with my life, you shall 2iossess the brave country alone for me." And 
with that, he gave a desperate struggle or two, and got out of the mire on that side of 
the slough which was next to his own house : so away he went, and Christian saw him 
no more. 

Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough of Despond alone ; but still 
he endeavored to struggle to that side of the slough which was farthest from his own 
house, and next to the wicket-gate ; the which he did, hut could not get out because 
of the burden that was upon his back; but I beheld in my dream, that a man came to 
him whose name was Help, and asked him, "What he did there ? 

Chhis. "Sir," said Christian, " I was bid to go this way by a man called Evangelist, 
who directed me also to yonder gate, that I might escape the wrath to come ; and as 
I was going there I fell in here." 

Help. But why did you not look for the steps ? 

Chuis. Fear followed me so hard, that I fled the next way, and fell in. 

Help. Then said he, " Give me thine hand." So he gave him his hand, and he 
drew him out,'" and set him upon sound ground, and bid him go on his way. 

Then I stej)]ied to him that plucked him out, and said, '' Sir, wherefore, since over 
this place is the way from the City of Destruction to yonder gate, is it that this plat is 
not mended, that poor travellers might go thither with more security? " And he said 
unto me, " This miry slough is such a place as cannot be mended ; it is the descent 
whither the scum and filth that attend conviction for sin do continually run, and there- 
fore it is called the Slough of Despond ; for still, as the sinner is awakened by his lost 
condition, there arise in his soul many fears, and doubts, and discouraging apprehen- 
sions, which all of them get together, and settle in this place ; and this is the reason 
of the badness of the ground. 

" It is not the pleasure of the King that this place should remain so bad.^' His 
laborers also have, by the direction of His Majesty's surveyors, been for about these 
sixteen hundred years employed about this patch of ground, if perhaps it might have 
been mended ; yea, and to my knowledge," said he, " here have been swallowed up at 
least twenty thousand cart-loads, yea, millions, of wholesome instructions, that have 
at all seasons been brought from all places of the King's dominions (and they that 




Christian and Pliable in the Slough op Despond. 
'Cliristiau still euiieavored to struggle to tliat side of the slough that was fartliest from his own house." (37) 



38 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



can tell say they are the best materials to make good ground of the j^lace), if so be it 
might have been mended ; but it is the Slough of Despond still, and so will be when 
they have done what they can. 

" True, there are, by the direction of the Law-giver, certain good and substantial 
steps, placed even through the very midst of this slough ; but at such time as this 
place doth much spew out its fdth, as it doth against change of weather, these steps 
are liardlj seen ; or, if they be, men, through the dizziness of their heads, step aside, 
and then they are bernired to purpose, notwithstanding the steps be there ; but the 
ground is good when they are got in at the gate." ^- 

Now, I saw in my dream, tliat 
by this time Pliable was got home 
to his house. So his neighbors 
came to visit him ; and some of 
them called him wise man for 
coming back, and some called 
him a fool for hazarding himself 
with Christian ; others again did 
mock at his cowardliness, saying, 
" Surely since you began to ven- 
ture, I would not have been so 
base to have given out for a few 
difficulties ;" so Pliable sat sneak- 
ing among them. But at last he 
got more confidence ; and then 
they all turned their tales, and 
began to deride poor Christian 
behind his back. And thus much 
concerning Pliable. 
Now, as Christian was walking solitary by Iiimself, he espied one afar off come 
crossing over the field to meet him; and their hap was to meet just as they were 
crossing the way of each other. The gentleman's name that met him was Mr. Worldly 
Wiseman : he dwelt in the town of Carnal Policy, a very great town, and also hard by 
from whence Christian came. This man, then, meeting with Christian, and having 
some inkling of him — (for Christian's setting forth from the City of Destruction was 
much noised abroad, not only in the town where he dwelt, but also it began to be the 
town-talk in some other places) — Mr. Worldly Wiseman, therefore, having some guess 




Mr. Worldly WisoniaTi, 



WORLDLY WISEMAN'S COUNSEL. 39 

of hiiu, by beholding his hiborious going, by observing his sighs and groans, and the 
like, began thus to enter into some talk with Christian : 

World. How now, good fellow ! whither away after this burdened manner? 

Chris. A burdened manner indeed, as ever I think jwor creature had! And 
whereas you ask me, Whither away ? I tell you, sir, I am going to yonder wicket- 
gate before me ; fur there, as I am informed, I shall be put into a way to be rid of ray 
heavy burden. 

World. Hast thou a wife and children ? 

Chris. Yes ; but I am so laden with this burden, that I cannot take that pleasure 
in them as formerly ; methinks I am as if I had none.°^ 

World. Wilt thou hearkeu to me, if I give thee counsel ? 

Chris. If it be good, I will ; for I stand in need of good counsel. 

World. I would advise thee, then, that thou with all speed get thyself rid of thy 
burden ; for thou wilt never be settled in thy mind till then ; nor canst thou enjoy the 
blessings which God hath bestowed upon thee till then. 

Chris. That is that which I seek for, even to be rid of this heavy burden ; but get 
it off myself I cannot ; nor is there any man in our country that can take it off my 
shoulders ; therefore am I going this way, as I told you, that I may be rid of my burden. 

World. Who bid thee go this way to be rid of thy burden ? 

Chris. A man that appeared to me to be a very great and honorable person ; his 
name, as I remember, is Evangelist. 

AVorld. I beshrew '•' him for his counsel ! there is not a more dangerous and trouble- 
some way in the world than is that into which he hath directed thee ; and that thou 
shalt find, if thou wilt be ruled by his counsel. Thou hast met with something, as I 
perceive, already ; for I see the dirt of the Slough of Despond is upon thee ; but that 
slough is the beginning of the sorrows that do attend those that go on in that way. 
Hear me : I am older than thou : thou art like to meet with, in the way which thou 
goest, wearisomeness, painfulness, hunger, perils, nakedness, sword, lions, dragons 
darkness, and, in a word, death, and what not. These things are certainly true, having 
been confirmed by many testimonies. And why should a man so carelessly cast away 
himself, by giving heed to a stranger ? 

Chris. Why, sir, this burden upon my back is more terrible to me than all these 
things which you have mentioned ; nay, methinks I care not what I meet with in the 
waj^ if so be I can also meet with deliverance from my burden. 

World. How camest thou by the burden at first ? 

* Wish him ill. 



40 THE PILGRDPS PROGRESS. 

Cheis. By reading this book in my hand. 

World. I thought so. And it lias hapjDened unto thee as unto other Aveak men, 
who, meddling with things too high for them, do suddenly fall into thy distractions ; 
which distractions do not only unman men, as thine I perceive have done thee, but 
they run them upon desperate ventures, to obtain they know not what. 

Chris. I know what I would obtain ; it is ease for ray heavy burden. 

World. But Avhy wilt thou seek for ease this way, seeing so many dangers attend 
it? Especially since (hadst thou but patience to hear me), I could direct thee to the 
obtaining of what thou desirest, without the dangers that thou in this way wilt I'un 
thyself into. Yea, and the remedy is at hand. Besides, I will add that, instead of 
those dangers, thou shalt meet with much safety, friendship, and content. 

Chris. Sir, I pray, open this secret to me. 

World. Why, in yonder village (the village is named Morality), there dwells a gen- 
tleman whose name is Legality, a very judicious man, and a man of very good name, 
that has skill to help men off with such burdens as thine is from their shoulders ; yea, 
to my knowledge he hath done a great deal of good this way ; aye, and besides, he 
hath skill to cure those that are somewhat crazed in their wits with their burdens. To 
him, as I said, thou mayest go, and be helped presently. His house is not quite a mile 
from this place ; and if he should not be at home himself, he hath a pretty young man 
to his son, whose name is Civility, that can do it (to speak on) as well as the old gen- 
tleman himself There, I say, thou mayest be eased of thy burden ; and if thou art 
not minded to go back to thy former habitation (as indeed I would not wish thee), 
thou mayest send for thy wife and children to thee in this village, where there are 
houses now standing empty, one of which thou mayest have at a reasonable rate ; provi- 
sion is there also cheap and good ; and that which will make thy life the more hapj^y 
is, to be sure there thou shalt live by honest neighbors, in credit and good fashion. 

Now was Cliristian somewhat at a stand ; but presently he concluded, " If this be 
true which this gentleman hath said, my wisest course is to take his advice;" and 
with that, he thus further sjiake : 

Chris. Sir, wkich is my way to this honest man's house ? 

AVorld. Do you see yonder high hill ? 

Chris. Yes, very well. 

World. By that hill you must go, and the lirst house you come at is his. 

So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr. Legality's house for help ; but, 
behold, when he was got now hard by the hill, it seemed so high, and also that side of 
it that was next the wayside did hang so much over, that Christian was afraid to veu- 



CHRISTIAN ADMONISHED BY EVANGELIST. 41 

ture farther, lest the hill should fall on his head ; wherefore there he stood still, and 
wotted not what to do. Also his burden now seemed heavier to him than while he was 
in his way. There came also flashes of fire"*^ out of the hill, that made Christian afraid 
that he should be burnt : here, therefore, he sweat and did quake for fear.*'' And 
now he began to be sorry that he had taken Mr. Worldly Wiseman's counsel ; and with 
that, he saw Evangelist coming to meet hira, at the sight also of whom he began to 
blush for shame. 80 Evangelist drew nearer and nearer ; and, coming up to him, he 
looked upon him with a severe and dreadfid countenance, and thus began to reason 
with Christian : 

Evan. " What dost thou here, Christian ? " said he ; at which Avords Christian knew 
not what to answer; wherefore at present he stood speechless before him. Then said 
Evangelist further, "Art thou not the man that I found crying without the walls of the 
•City of Destruction ? " 

Chris. Yes, dear sir, I am the man. 

Evan. Did not I direct thee the w^ay to the little wicket-gate ? 

Chris. " Yes, dear sir," said Christian. 

Evan. How is it, then, that thou art so quickly turned aside ? For thou art now 
out of the way. 

Chris. I met with a gentleman as soon as I had got over the Slough of Despond, 
who persuaded me that i might, in the village before me, find a man that could take 
oft' my burden. 

EvAX. What was he? 

Chris. He looked like a gentleman, and talked much to me, and got me at last to 
yield : so I came hither, but when I beheld this hill, and how it hangs over the way, I 
suddenly made a stand, lest it should fall on my head. 

Evan. AVhat said that gentleman to you ? 

Chris. Why, he asked me whither I was going, and I told him. 

Evan. And what said he then ? 

Chris. He asked me if I had a family, and I toid him. But, said I, I am so laden 
■with the burden that is on my back, that I cannot take pleasure in tli^m as formerly. 

Evan. And what said he then ? 

Chris. He bid me with speed get rid of my burden ; and I told him it was ease 
that I sought. And, said I, I am therefore going to yonder gate to receive further 
direction how I may get to the place of deliverance. So he said that he would show 
me a better way, and short, not so attended with difficulties as tlie way, sir, that you 
sent me in ; which way, said he, will direct you to a gentleman's house that hath skill 



42 THE PILGRUrS PROGRESS. 

to take oif these burdens. So I believed lihii, and turned out of that way into this, if 
haply I might soon be eased of my burden. But, when I came to this place, and 
beheld things as they are, I stopped for fear (as I said) of danger; but I now know 
not what to do. 

Evan. Then said Evangelist, " Stand still a little, that I may show thee the words 
of God." So he stood trembling. Then said Evangelist, " See that ye refuse not him 
that speaketh ; for if they escaped not who refused him that spake on earth, much 
more shall not we escape, if we turn away from Him that speaketh from lieaven."^" 
He said, moreover, "Now, the just shall live by faith; but if any man draw back, 
my soul shall have no pleasure in him."" He also did thus apply them : "Thou art 
the man that art running into misery ; thou hast begun to reject the counsel of the 
Most High, and to draw back thy foot from the way of peace, even almost to the 
hazarding of thy perdition." 

Then Christian fell down at his feet as dead, crying, "Woe is me, for I am undone !"' 
At the sight of which Evangelist caught him by the right hand, saying, "All manner 
of sin and blasphemies shall be forgiven unto men."^* '' Be not faithless, but believ- 
ing." ^" Then did Christian again a little revive, and stood up trembling, as at first,, 
before Evangelist. 

Then Evangelist proceeded, saying, " Give more earnest heed to the things that I 
shall tell thee of. I will now show thee who it was that deluded thee, and who it was 
also to whom he sent thee. That man that met thee is one Worldly Wiseman ; and 
rightly is he so called ; partly because he savoreth only of the doctrine of this world^"' 
(therefore he always goes to the town of jMorality to church), and partly because he 
loveth that doctrine best, for it saveth him from the Cross ; ^' and because he is of this 
carnal temper, therefore he seeketh to pervert my ways, though i ight. Now there are 
three things in this man's counsel that you must utterly abhor : 

" 1. His turning thee out of the way. 

" 2. His laboring to render the Cross odious to thee. 

" 3. And his setting thy feet in that, way that leadeth unto the administration of death. 
/*' First, — Thou must abhor his turning thee out of the way ; yea, and thine own con- 
senting thereto ; because this is to reject the counsel of God for the sake of the counsel 
of a Worldly Wiseman. The Lord says, ' Strive to enter in at the strait gate,' ^" the 
gate to which I send thee ; ' for strait is the gate which leadeth unto life, and few there 
be that find it.'''^ From this little wicket-gate, and from the way thereto, hath this 
wicked man turned thee, to the bringing of thee almost to destruction ; hate, therefore,, 
his turning thee out of the way, and abhor thyself for hearkening to him. 



EVANGELIST REPROVES CHRISTIAN. 43 

"Secondly, — Thou must abhor his hiboring to render the Cross odious unto thee; 
for thou art to prefer it before the treasures of Egypt." Besides, the King of Glory 
hath told thee that he that will save his life shall lose it ; and he that comes after Him, 
and hates not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, 
yea, and his own life also, he cannot be His disciple.^'' I say, therefore, for man to 
labor to persuade thee that that shall be thy death, without which the Truth hath said 
thou canst not have eternal life, this doctrine thou must abhor. 

"Thirdly, — Thou must hate his setting of thy feet in the way that leadeth to the 
ministration of deatli. And for this thou must consider to whom he sent thee, and 
also how unable that person was to deliver thee from thy burden. 

" He to whom thou wast sent for ease, being by name Legality, is the son of the 
bondwoman which now is, and is in bondage with her children ;^" and is in a mystery 
this Mount Sinai, which thou hast feared will fall on thy head. Now, if she with her 
children is in bondage, how canst thou expect by them to be made free? This 
Legality, therefore, is not able to set thee free from thy burden. No man was as yet 
ever rid of his burden by him; no, nor ever is like to be: ye cannot be justified by 
the works of the law ; for by the deeds of the law no man living can be rid of his bur- 
den. Therefore, Mr. Worldly Wiseman is an alien, and Mr. Legality is a cheat ; and, 
for his son Civility, notwithstanding his simpering looks, he is but an hypocrite, and 
cannot help thee. Believe me, there is nothing in all this noise that thou hast heard 
of these sottish men, but a design to beguile thee of thy salvation, by turning thee from 
the way in which I had set thee." After this. Evangelist called aloud to the heavens 
for confirmation of what he had said ; and with that there came words and fire out of 
the mountain under which poor Christian stood, which made the hair of his flesh stand 
up. The words were thus pronounced : " As many as are of the works of the law are 
under the curse ; for it is written. Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things 
which are written in the book of the law to do them."^' 

Now, Christian looked for nothing but death, and began to cry out lamentably ; 
even cursing the time in which he met with Mr. Worldly Wiseman ; still calling him- 
self a thousand fools for hearkening to his counsel. He also was greatly ashamed to 
think that this gentleman's arguments, flowing only from the flesh, should have the 
prevalency with him so far as to cause him to forsake the right way. This done, he 
applied himself again to Evangelist, in words and sense as follows : 

Chris. Sir, what think you ? Is there any hope? May I now go back, and go up to the 
wicket-gate ? Shall I not be abandoned for this, and sent back from thence ashamed ?' 
I am sorry I have hearkened to this man's counsel ; but may ray sins be forgiven ? 



44 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



EvAX. 'Jlien said Evangelist to liiui, " Thy sin is very great, for by it thou hast 
committed two evils : thou hast forsaken the way that is good, to tread in forbidden 
paths. Yet will the man at the gate I'eceive thee, for he has good will for men ; oiilv," 
said he, " take heed that thou turn not aside again, lest thou perish from the way, when 
his wrath is kindled but a little."** 




mg 



CHAPTEEII. 

HEN did Christian address himself to go back ; and Evangelist , after he had 
kissed him, gave him one smile, and bid him God speed ; so he went on with 
\ haste, neither spake he to any man by the way ; nor, if any asked him, would 
he vouchsafe them an answer. He went like one that was all the while tread- 
on forbidden ground, aqd could by no means think himself safe, till again he was 

got in the way which he had left to follow Mr. 
Worldly Wiseman's counsel : so in process 
of time, Christian got up to the gate. Now, 
over the gate there was written, "Knock, and 
it shall be opened unto you."*" 

He knocked, therefore, more than once or 
twice, saying : 

"May I now enter liero? Will Ho within 
Open to Sony lue, tlioiia;li I have been 
All nndescrving rebel ? Then shall I 
Not fiiil to sing His lasting praise on high." 

At last there came a grave person to the 
gate named Goodwill, who asked who was 
there, and whence he came, and what he would 
have ? 

Chris. Here is a poor burdened sinner. I 
come from the City of Destruction, but am 
going to Mount Zion, that I may be delivered 

' W'lu'U Clifialiaii w.L- ^toitpiiii,' ill, the (ithur iiavu 

iiim a pull." from the wrath to come ; I would therefore, 




GOODWILL POINTS OUT HIE WAY. 



45. 



sir, since I am informed that by this gate is the way thither, know if you are willing 
to let me in. 

Good. " I am willing with all my lieart," said he ; and, with that, he opened the gate. 

So, when Christian was stepping in, the 
other gave him a pull. Then said Christian, 
" What means that?" The other told him, 
" A little distance from ■ this gate there is 
erected a strong castle, of which Beelzebub is 
the ca[)tain ; from whence both he and they 
that are with him shoot arrows at those that 
come up to this gate, if haply they may die 
before they can enter in." Then said Chris- 
tian, " I rejoice and tremble." So when he was 
got in, the man of the gate asked him who 
directed him thither. 

Chris. Evangelist bid me come hither and 
knock, as I did; and he said that you, sir, 
would tell me wdiat I must do. 

Good. An open door is set before thee, and 
no man can shut it. 

Chris. Now I begin to reap the benefit of 
my hazards. 

Good. But how is it that you came alone ? 

Chris. Because none of my neighbors saw their tlauger, as I saw nnne. 

Good. Did any of them know you wore coming ? 

Chris. Yes, my wife and children saw me at the first, and called after me to turrt 
again ; also some of my neighbors stood crying ami calling after me to return ; but I 
put my fingers in my ears, and so came on mv way. 

Good. But did none of them follow you, to persuade you to go back? 

Chris. Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable : but, when they saw that they could not 
prevail. Obstinate went railing back, but Pliable came with me a little way. 

Good. But why did he not come through ? 

Chris. We indeed came both together until we came to the Slough of Despond, 
into the which we also suddenly fell. And then was my neighbor Pliable discouraged, 
and would not venture farther. Wherefore, getting out again on the side next his. 




' BcL'lzL'bul) and they tliat are with him s'loot arrows.'' 



46 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS. 

own house, he told me I should possess the brave country alone for him : so he went 
his way, and I came mine ; he after Obstinate, and I to this gate. 

Good. Then said Goodwill, " Alas, poor man ! is the celestial glory of so little 
esteem with him, that he coiinteth it not worth running the hazard of a few difficulties 
to obtain it? " 

Chris. " Truly," said Christian, " I have said the truth of Pliable ; and if I should 
also say the truth of myself, it Avill appear there is no betterment betwixt him and 
myself 'Tis true, he went on back to his own house ; but I also turned aside to go 
into the way of death, being persuaded thereto by the carnal argument of one Mr. 
Worldly Wiseman." 

Good. Oh ! did he light upon you ? What ! he would have had you .seek for ease 
at the hands of Mr. Legality ! They are both of them a very cheat. But did you 
take his counsel ? 

Chris. Yes, as far as I durst. I went to find out Mr. Legality, until I thought that 
the mountain that stands by his house would have fallen upon my head : wherefore 
there I was forced to stop. 

Good. That mountain has been the death of many, and will be the death of many 
more ; it is well you escaped being by it dashed in pieces. 

Chris. Why,* truly, I do not know what had become of me there, had not Evan- 
gelist happily met me again as I was musing in the midst of my dum^^s ; but it was 
God's mercy that he came to me again, for else I had never come hither. But now I 
am come, such a one as I am, more fit indeed for death by that mountain, than thus to 
stand talking with my Lord. But, oh ! what a favor this is to me, that yet I am 
admitted entrance here ! .\ 

(jOOD. We make no objections against any, notwithstanding all that they have done 
before they come hither ; they in no wise are cast out.'^" And therefore, good Chris- 
tian, come a little with me, and I will teach thee about the way thou must go. Look 
before thee : dost thou see this narrow way ? That is the way thou must go. It was 
cast up by the patriarchs, prophets, Christ and His apostles, and it is as straight as a 
rule can make it : this is the way thou must go. 

Chris. " But," said Christian, " are there no turnings nor windings by which a 
stranger may lose his way ? " 

Good. Yes, there are many ways butt down upon this, and they are crooked and 
wide; but thus thou ma vest distinojuish the risfht from the wrono;, the rio;ht onlv being; 
straight and narrow."' 

Then I saw in my dream, that Christian asked him further if he could not help him 



THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE. 47 

off with his burden that was upon his back. For as yet he had not got rid thereof, 
nor could he by any means get it off without help. 

He told him, " As to thy burden, be content to bear it until thou comest to the place 
of deliverance ; for there it will fall from thy back of itself" 

Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to liis journey. 

So the other told him that l)y that he was gone some distance from the gate, he 
would come at the house of the Interpreter, at whose door he should knock, and he 
would show him excellent things. Then Christian took liis leave of his friend, and he 
again bid him God speea. 

Then he went on till he came to the house of the Interpreter, where he knocked 
over and over. At last one came to the door, and asked who was there. 

Chris. Sir, here is a traveller who was bid by an acquaintance of the good man of 
this house to call here for his jjrofit ; I would therefore speak with the master of the house. 

So he called for the master of the house, who, after a little time, came to Christian, 
and asked him whac he would have. 

Chris. " Sir," said Christian, " I am a man that am come from the City of Destruc- 
tion, and am going to Mount Zion ; and I was told by tlie man that stands at the gate 
at the head of this way, that, if I called here, you would show me excellent things, such 
as would be helpful to me on my journey." 

Inter. Then said the Interpreter, " Come in ; I will show thee that which will be 
profitable to thee." So he commanded his man to light the candle, and bid Christian 
follow him ; so he had him into a private room, and bid his man open a door ; the 
which when he had done, Christian saw the picture of a very grave j^erson hung up 
against the wall ; and this was the fashion of it : it had eyes lifted up to lieaven, the 
best of books in its hand, the law of truth was written upon its lips, the world was 
behind its back ; it stood as if it 2:)leaded with men, and a crown of gold did hang 
over its head. 

Chris. Then said Christian, "What meaneth this?" 

Inter. The man whose picture this is, is one of a thousand. He can say, in the 
words of the apostle, "Though ye have ten thousand instructors in Christ, yet have 
you not many fathers ; for in Christ Jesus I have begotten you through the Gospel. 
My little children, of whom I travail in birth again until Christ be formed in you." ■'- 
And whereas thou seest him with his eyes lifted up to heaven, the best of books in his 
hand, and the law of truth writ on his lips, it is to show thee that his work is to know 
and unfold dark things to sinners ; even as also thou seest him stand as if he pleaded 
with men. And whereas thou seest the world is cast behind him, and that a crown 



48 THE PILGRUrS PROGRESS. 

hangs over his head ; that is to show thee that, slighting and despising the things that 
are present, for tlie love that he hath to his Master's service, he is sure in the world 
that conies next to have glory for his reward. Now, said the Interpreter, I have 
showed thee this picture first, because the man whose picture this is, is the only man 
whom the Lord of the place whither thou art going hath authorized to be thy guide, 
in all difficult places thou raayest meet with in thy way ; wherefore take good heed to 
what I have showed thee, and bear well in thy mind what thou hast seen, lest in thy 
journey thou meet with some that pretend to lead thee right, but their way goes down 
to death. 

Then he took him by the hand, and led him into a very large parlor, that was full 
of dust, because never swept ; the which after he had reviewed it a little while, the 
Interpreter called for a man to sweep. Now, when he began to sweep, the dust began 
so abundantly to fly about that Christian had almost therewith been choked. Then 
said the Interpreter to a damsel that stood by, " Bring liither water, and sprinkle the 
room ; " the which when she had done, it was swept and cleansed with pleasure. 

Chris. Then said Christian, " What means this?" 

Inter. The Interpreter answered, " This parlor is the heart of a man that was 
never sanctified by the sweet grace of the Gospel. The dust is his original sin, and 
inward corruptions that have defiled the whole man. He that began to sweep at first 
is the law ; but she that brought wat^r, and did sprinkle it, is the Gospel. Now, 
whereas thou sawest that, as soon as the first began to sweep, the dust did so fly about 
that the room could not by him be cleansed, but that thou wast almost choked there- 
with ; this is to show thee, that the law, instead of cleansing the heart (by its working) 
from sin, doth revive,^^ put strength into,'* and increase it in the soul,'^^ even as it doth 
discover and forbid it, for it dath not give power to subdue. Again, as thou sawest 
the damsel sprinkle the room with water, upon which it was cleansed with pleasure; 
this is to show thee, that when the Gospel comes, in the sweet and gracious influences 
thereof, to the heart, then, I say, even as thou sawest the damsel lay the dust by 
sprinkling the floor with water, so is sin vanquished and subdued, and the soul made 
clean through the faith of it, and, consequently, fit for tlie King of Glory to in- 
habit.'^" 

I .saw moreover in my dream, that the Interpreter took him by the hand, and had 
him into a little room where sat two little children, eacli one in his own chair. The 
name of the eldest was Passion, and the name of the other Patience. Passion seemed 
to be much discontented, but Patience was very quiet. Then Christian asked, "What 
is the reason of the discontent of Passion ?" The Interpreter answered, " The governor 



THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE. 49 

■V. 

of them would have him stay for his best things till the beginning of next year ; but 
he will have all now. Patience is willing to wait." 

Then I saw that one came to Passion, and brought him a bag of treasure, and 
poured it down at his feet; the which he took up, and rejoiced therein, and withal 
laughed Patience to scorn. But I beheld but awhile, and he had lavished all away, 
and had nothing left him but rags. 

Chr. Then said Christian to the Interpreter, "Expound this matter more fully to me " 

IxTEK. So he said, " These two lads are figures : Passion, of the men of this world ; 
and Patience, of the men of that which is to come: for, as here thou seest. Passion will 
have all now, this year, that is to say in this world; so are the men of this world : they 
must have all their good things now ; they cannot stay till the next year, that is, until 
the next world, for their portion of good. That proverb, 'A bird in the hand is worth 
two in the bush,' is of more authority with them than all tlie Divine testimonies of the 
good of the world to come. But, as thou sawest that he had quickly lavished all away, 
and had presently left him nothing but rags, so will it be with all such men at the end 
of this world." 

Chkis. Then said Christian, " Now I see that Patience has the best wisdom, ami that 
upon many accounts. 1. Because he stays for the best things. 2. And also because 
he will have the glory of his when the other has nothing but rags." 

Inter. Nay, you may add another ; to wit, the glory of the next world will never 
wear out ; but these are suddenly gone. Therefore Passion had not so much reason 
to laugh at Patience because he had his good things at first, as Patience will have to 
laugh at Passion, because he had his best things last ; for first must give 2:)lace to last, 
because last must have his time to come ; but last gives place to nothing, for there is 
not another to succeed : he, therefore, that hath his portion first, must needs have a 
time to spend it ; but he that hath his portion last, must have it lastingly ; therefore it 
is said of Dives, "In thy lifetime thou receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus 
evil things ; but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented." *' 

Chkis. Then I perceive it is not best to covet things that are now, but to wait for 
things to come. 

Inter. You say truth ; " for the things that are seen are temporal, but the things 
that are not seen are eternal."'* But, though this be so, yet, since things 2iresent and 
our fleshly appetite are such near neighbors one to another ; and again, because things 
to come and carnal sense are such strangers one to another ; thei'efore it is, that the first 
of these so suddenly fall into amity, and that distance is so continued between the 
second.'^" 

7 



50 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Then I saw in my dream, that the Interpreter took Christian by the hand and led 
him into a place where was afire burning against a wall, and one standing by it, always 
casting much water u])on it, to quench it ; yet did the fire burn higher and hotter. 

Chris. Then said Christian, " What means this ? " 

IxTER. The Interpreter answered, " This fire is the work of grace that is wrought 
in the heart : he that casts water upon it to extinguish and put it out, is the devil ; 
but, in that thou seest the fire notwithstanding burn higher and hotter, thou shalt also 
see the reason of that." So then he had him about to the other side of the wall, where 
he saw a man with a vessel of oil in his hand, of the which he did also continually 
cast, but secretly, into the fire. 

Chris. Then said Christian, "What means this?" 

Inter. The Interpreter answered, " This is Christ, who continually, with the oil of 
His grace, maintains the work ah-eady begun in the heart ; by the means of which 
notwithstanding wluit the devil can do, the souls of His people prove gracious still.''" 
And in that thou sawest that the man stood behind the wall to maintain the fire ; this 
is to teach thee, that it is hard for the tempted to see how this work of grace is main- 
tained in the soul." 

I saw also that the Interpreter took him again by the hand, and led him into a 
pleasant place, where was built a stately palace, beautiful to behold, at the sight of 
which Christian was greatly delighted. He saw also upon the top thereof certain 
persons walking, who were clothed all in gold. 

Then said Christian, "May we go in thither?" 

Then the Interpreter took him and led him up toward the door of the palace; and 
behold, at the door stood a great company of men, as desirous to go in, but durst not. 
There also sat a man at a little distance from the door, at a table-side, with a book and 
his ink-horn before him, to take the name of him that should enter therein ; he saw 
also that in the doorway stood many men in armor to keep it, being resolved to do to 
the men that would enter what hurt and mischief they could. Now was Christian 
somewhat in amaze. At last, when every man started back for fear of the armed men, 
Christian saw a man of a very stout countenance come up to the man that sat there 
to write, saying, " Set down my name, sir : " the which when he had done, he saw the 
man draw his sword, and put a helmet upon his head, and rush toward the door upon 
the armed men, who laid U2:)0n him with deadly force ; but the man, not at all dis- 
couraged, fell to cutting and hacking most fiercely. So that, after he had received and 
given many wounds to those that attempted to keep him out," he cut his way through 
them all and pressed forward into the palace ; at which there was a pleasant voice 




c^/lif'^^''yx^ 



Despair. 



'1 urn now a man of ilospaiv, a nl ara shut n;> i i it. as in this iron cage.' 



(51) 



52 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

heard from those that were within, even of those that walked upon the top of the 
palace, saying : 

" Come in, come in ; 
Eternal glory thou shalt win." 

So he went in, and was clothed in such garments as they. Then Christian smiled, 
and said, " I think verily I know the meaning of this." 

" Now," said Christian, " let me go hence." '' Nay, stay," said the Interpreter, 
" until I have showed thee a little more ; and after that thou shalt go on thy way." 
So he took him by the liand again, and led him into a very dark room, where there 
sat a man in an iron cage. 

Now, the man, to look on, seemed very sad. He sat with his eyes looking down to 
the ground, his hands folded together ; and he sighed as if he would break his heart. 
Then said Christian, " What means this?" At which the Interpreter bid him talk 
with the man. 

Then said Christian to the man, " ^V^hat art thou ? " The man answered, " I am what 
I Avas not once." 

Chris. What wast thou once ? 

Man. The man said, " I was once a fair and flourishing professor,''" both in mine 
own eyes, and also in the eyes of others ; I was once, as I thought, fair for the Celestial 
City, and had even joy at the thoughts that I should get thither." 

Chris. Well, but what art thou now ? 

Man. I am now a man of despair, and am shut uj) in it, as in this iron cage. I 
cannot get out. Oh, now I cannot ! 

Chris. But how camest thou in this condition ? 

Man. I left off to watch and be sober. I laid the reins upon the neck of my lusts ; 
I sinned against the light of the Word and the goodness of God ; I have grieved the 
Spirit, and He is gone ; I tempted the devil, and he has come to me ; I have provoked 
God to anger, and He has left me ; I have so hardened my heart that I cannot repent. 

Then said Christian to the Interpreter, " But are there no hopes for such a man as 
this ? " " Ask him," said the Interpreter. 

Chris. Then said Christian, " Is there no hope, but you must be kept in the iron 
cage of despair ? " 

Man. No, none at all. 

Chris. AVhy? the Son of the Blessed is very pitiful. 

Man. I have crucified Him to myself afresh.'"^ I have despised His person." I 
have despised His righteousness ; I have counted His blood an unholy thing ; I have 



THE DREAM OF THE JUDGMENT. 53 

done despite to the Spirit of grace/" Therefore I have shut mj'sclf out of all the 
promises, and there now remains to me nothing but threatenings, dreadful tiireatenings, 
fearful threatenings of certain judgment and fiery indignation, which shall devour me 
as an adversary. 

Chkis. For what did you bring yourself into this condition ? 

Max. For the lusts, pleasures, and jDrofits of this world ; in the enjoyment of which 
I did then jjromise myself much delight ; but now every one of those things also bite 
me, and gnaw me, like a burning worm. 

Chris. But canst thou not now repent and turn ? 

Max. God hath denied me repentance. His Word gives me no encouragement to 
believe ; yea. Himself hath shut me up in this iron cage ; nor can all the men in the 
world let me out. O eternity ! eternity ! how shall I grapple with the misery that I 
must meet with in eternity ? 

IxTER. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, " Let this man's misery be remem- 
bered by thee, and be an everlasting caution to thee.'' 

Chris. " Well," said Christian, " this is fearful ! God help me to watch and be sober, 
and to pray, that I may shun the cause of this man's misery. Sir, is it not time for me 
to go on my way now ? " 

IxTER. Tarry till I show thee one thing more, and then thou shalt go on thy way. 

So he took Christian by the hand again, and led him into a chamber, where there 
was one rising out of bed ; and, as he put on his raiment, he shook and trembled. 
Then said Christian, " Why doth this man thus tremble ? " The Interj)reter then bid 
hira tell to Christian the reason of his so doing. So he began, and said, "This night, 
as I was in my sleep, I dreamed, and behold, the heavens grew exceeding black ; also 
it thundered and lightened in most fearful wise, that it put me into an agony. So I 
looked up in my dream, and saw the clouds rack at an unusual rate ; upon which I 
heard a great sound of a trumpet, and saw also a Man sitting upon a cloud, attended 
with the thousands of heaven ; they were all in flaming fire ; also the heavens were in 
a bui-ning flame. I heard then a great voice saying, ' Arise, ye dead, and come to 
judgment.' And with that the rocks rent, the graves opened, and the dead that were 
therein came forth : some of them were exceeding glad, and looked upward ; and some 
thought to hide themselves under the mountains. Then I saw the Man that sat upon 
the cloud open the book, and bid the world draw near. Yet there was, by reason of 
a fierce flame that issued out and came before Hira, a convenient distance betwixt Him 
and them, as betwixt the judge and the prisoners at the bar.'" I heard it also pro- 
claimed to them that attended on the Man that sat on the cloud, ' Gather together the 




Christian Before the Cross. 

' His burden fell off his back, and began to tumble." 



(54) 



THE DREAM OF THE JUDGMENT. 



55 



tares, tlie chaff, and stubble, and cast them into the burning lake."*' And, with that, 

the bottomlesff pit opened, just whereabout I stood; out of the mouth of which there 

came, in an abundant manner, smoke and coals of fire, with hideous noises. It was 

also said to the same persons, ' Gather my 

wheat .into the garner."^'* And, with that, I 

saw many catched up and carried away into 

the clouds ; but I was left behind.''" I also 

sought to hide myself, but I could not ; for 

the Man that sat upon the cloud still kept 

His eye upon me ; my sins also came into my 

mind, and my conscience did accuse me on 

every side.'" Upon this I awakened from my 

sleep." 

Chris. But what was it that made 3'ou so 
afraid of this sight ? 

Man. Why I thought that the day of judg- 
ment was come, and that I was not ready for 
it. But this affrighted me most, that the 
angels gathered up several, and left me be- 
hind ; also the pit of hell opened her mouth 
just where I stood. My conscience, too, af- 
flicted me ; and, as I thought, the Judge had 
always His eye upon me, showing indignation in His countenance. 

Inter. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, " Hast thou considered these things ? " 

Chris. Yes ; and they put me in hope and fear. 

Inter. Well, keep all things so in thy mind, that they may be as a goad in thy sides, 
to prick thee forward in the way thou must go. 

Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to his journey. 
Then said the Interpreter, " The Comforter be alway-^ with thee, good Christian, to 
guide thee into the way that leads to the city." 

So Christian went on his way, saying, 




"The Ijottomlcss pit opened ju^t wlioreabout I stood." 



"Here have I seoii tluiijjs rare and profitable ; 
Things pleasant, dreadfnl ; things ti) make me stable 
In what I have begun to take in hand ; 
Then let me think on them, and understand 
Wherefore they showed me where ; and let me be 
Thankful, O good Interpreter, to thee. ' ' 



56 IHE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 




CHAPTER III. 

*^ ' 

I OW, 1 saw in my dream that the highway up which Christian was to go was fenced 

on either side with a wall that was called Salvation."' Up this way, therefore, 

^^^ did burdened Christian run, but not without great difficulty, because of the 

load on his back. 

He ran thus till he came to a place somewhat ascending ; and upon that place stood 
a Cross, and a little below, in the bottom, a sepulchre. So I saw in my dream, that 
just as Christian came up with the cross, his burden loosed from off his shoulders, and 
fell from off his back, and began to tumble, and so continued to do till it came to the 
mouth of the sepulchre, where it fell in, and I saw it no more'. 

Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said with a merry heart, " He hath 
given me rest by His sorrow, and life by His death." Then he stood still awhile to 
look and wonder ; for it was very surprising to him that the sight of the cross should 
thus ease him of his burden. He looked, therefore, and looked again, even till the 
springs that were in his head sent the water down his cheeks.'''^ Now, as he stood 
looking and weeping, behold, three Shining Ones came to him, and saluted him with 
" Peace be to thee." So the first said to him, " Thy sins be forgiven thee ; "" the second 
stripped him of his rags, and clothed him with a change of raiment ; ^* the third also 
set a mark on his forehead," and gave him a roll with a seal upon it, which he bade 
him look on as he ran, and that he should give it in at the celestial gate : so they went 
their way. Then Christian gave three leaps for joy, and went on, singing, 

"Thus far did I come laden with my sin ; 
Nor could aught ease the grief that I was in, 
Till I came hither : what a place is this ! 
Must here be the beginning of my bliss ? 
Must here the burden fall from oflF my back ? 
Must here the strings that bound it to me crack ? 
Blest cross ! blest sepulchre ! blest rather be 
The Man that was there put to shame for me I " 

I saw then in my dream that he went on thus, even until he came to the bottom, 
where he saw, a little out of the way, three men fast asleep, with fetters upon their 
heels. The name of one was Simple, of another Sloth, and of the third Presumption. 

Christian, then, seeing them lie in this case, went to them, if jjeradventure he might 




Christian and the Angels. 
' Behold, three Shiaing Oaes came to him, and saluted him." 



(57) 



58 



THE PILGRUrS PROGRESS. 



awake them, and cried, " You are like them that sleep on the top of a mast ; '" for the 
deep sea is under you, a gulf that hath no hottom : awake, therefore, and come away; 
be willing, also, and I will help you off with your irons." He also told them, " If he 
that goeth about like a roaring lion" comes by, you will certainly become a prey to 
his teeth." AVith that they looked upon him, and began to reply in this soi't: Simple 
said, "I see no danger." Sloth said, " Yet a little more sleep." And Presumption 
said, " Every tub must stand upon his own bottom." And so they lay down to sleep 
again, and Christian went on his way. 

Yet was he troubled to think that men in that danger should so little esteem the 

kindness of him that so offered to help them, 
both by awakening of them, counselling of 
them, and proffering to help them off with 
their irons. And, as he was troubled there- 
about, he espied two men come tumbling over 
the wall on the left hand of the narrow way ; 
and they made up aj^ace to him. The name 
of one was Formalist, and the name of the 
other was Hypocrisy. So, as I said, they drew 
u[) unto hiu), who thus entered with them 
into discourse : 

Chris. Gentlemen, whence came you, and 
whither go you ? 

Form, and Hyp. We were born in the land 
of Vain-glory, and are going for praise to 

t ^IS^M^^lKMk '~"- \ Mount Zion. 

:'J ' '^.:_) Ix^ '//:;'/ Chris. Why came you not in at the gate 

Formalist. wliicli staudcth at the beginning of the way ? 

Know ye not that it is written, " He that 
Cometh not in by the door, but climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a 
robber"?"^ 

Form, and Hyp. They said that to go to the gate for entrance was, by all their 
countrymen, counted too far about; and that therefore their usual way was to make a 
short cut of it, and to climb over the wall as they had done. 

Chris. But will it not be counted a tresspass against the Lord of the city whither 
we are bound, thus to violate His revealed will ? 

Form and Hyp. They told him, that as for that, he needed not trouble his head 




FORMALITY AXD HYPOCRISY. 



59^ 



thereabout ; for what they did they had custom for, and could produce, if need were, 
testimony that could witness it for more than a thousand years. 

Chris. " But," said Christian, ■' will it stand a trial at law ? " 

Form, and Hyp. They told him that custom, it being of so long standing as above 
a thousand years, would doubtless now be admitted as a thing legal by an impartial 
judge. "And besides," said they, "if we get into the way, what matter is it which 
way we may get in ? If we are in, we are in : thou art but in the way, who, as we 
perceive, came in at the gate ; and we are also in the way, that came tumbling over 
the wall : wherein, now, is thy condition better than ours ? " 

Chris. I walk by tlie rule of my Master ; you walk by the rude working of your 
fancies. You are counted thieves already by 
the Lord of the way ; therefore I doubt you 
will not be found true men at the end of the 
way. You come in by yourselves without His 
direction, and shall go out by yourselves with- 
out His mercy. 

To this they made him but little answer ; 
only they bid him look to himself Then 1 
saw that they went on every man in his way, 
without much conference one with another ; 
save that these two men told Christian, that, 
as to law and ordinances, they doubted not but 
that they should as conscientiously do them 
as he. " Therefore," said they, " we see not 
wherein thou diflferest from us, but by the coat 
which is on thy back, which was, as we trow, 
given thee by some of thy neighbors to hide 
the shame of thy nakedness." 

Chris. By laws and ordinances you will not be saved, since you came not in by the 
door.™ And as for this coat that is on my back, it was given to me by the Lord of 
the place whither I go ; and that, as you say, to cover my nakedness with. And I 
take it as a token of His kindness to me ; for I had nothing but rags before. And 
besides, thus I comfort myself as I go. Surely, think I, when I come to the gate of 
the city, the Lord thereof will know me for good, since I have His coat on my back : 
a coat that He gave me freely in the day that He stripped me of my rags. I have,, 
moreover, a mark in my forehead, of which perhaps you have taken no notice, which. 




Hypocrisy. 



60 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

one of my Lord's most intimate associates fixed tliere the day tliat my burden fell off 
my shoulders. I will tell you, moreover, that I had then given me a roll sealed, to 
comfort me by reading as I go in the way ; I was also bid to give it in at the celestial 
gate, in token of my certain going in after it; all which things, I doubt, you want, 
and want them because you came not in at the gate. 

To these things they gave him no answer ; only they looked upon each other, and 
laughed. Then I saw that they went on all, save that Christian kept before, who had 
no more talk but with himself, and sometimes sighingly, and sometimes comfortably; 
idso he would be often reading in the roll that one of the Shining Ones gave him, by 
which he was refre.-hed. 

I beheld then that they all went on till they came to the foot of the Hill Difficulty, 
at the bottom of which was a spring. There were also in the same place two other 
ways, besides that which came straight from the gate ; one turned to the left hand, 
and the other to the right, at the bottom of the hill ; but the narrow way lay right up 
the hill, and the name of that going up the side of the hill is called Difficulty. Christian 
now went to the spring,**" and drank thereof to refresh himself, and then began to go 
up the hill, saying, 

"Tlio liill, though high, I cuvct to ascend ; 
Tlio diffieiiUy will not me offend, 
For I perceive the way to life lies here. 
Ciiine, pluck np, heart, let's neither faint nor fear. 
Better, tliough Jifficnlt, the right way to go, 
Than wrong, though ens;/, where the end is woe." 

The other two also came to the foot of the hill. But when they saw that the hill 
was steep and high, and that there were two other ways to go ; and supposing also 
that these two ways might meet again with that up which Christian went, on the other 
side of the hill ; therefore they were resolved to go in those ways. Now, the name of 
one of those ways was Danger, and the name of the other Destruction. So the one 
took the way which is called Danger, which led him into a groat wood ; and the other 
took directly up the way to destruction, which led him into a wide field, full of dark 
mountains, where he stumbled and fell, and rose no more. 

I looked then after Christian, to see him go up the hill, where I perceived he fell 
from running to going, and from going to clambering upon his hands and his knees, 
because of the steepness of the place. Now, about the midway to the top of the hill 
was a pleasant arbor, made by the Lord of the hill for the refreshment of weary 
.travellers. Thither, therefore, Ciiristian got, where also he sat down to rest hiui ; 




Christian Climbing the Hill of Difficulty. 

•He fell from running to going, and from going to clambering upon his hands and his knees, because of the steepness of the place." 

(61) 



62 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 




'He stumbled aud fell, and ruse uo more. 



then he pulled his roll out of his bosom, and 
read therein to his comfort; he also now 
liPi^an afresh to take a review of the coat or 
garment thnt was given him as he stood 
by the cross. Thus pleasing himself a while, 
he at last fell into a slumber, and thence 
into a fast sleep, which detained him in 
that place until it was almost night; and in 
his sleep his roll fell out of his hand. Now, 
as he was sleeping, there came one to him, and 
awaked him, saying, " Go to the ant, thou 
sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise." *^ 
And, with that. Christian suddenly started up, 
and sped on his way, and went apace till he 
came to the top of the hill. 

Now, when he was got up to the top of the 
hill, there came two men running amain : the 
name of the one was Timorous, and of the 
other Mistrust ; to whom Christian said, " Sirs, 



what's the matter? You run the wrong way." 
Timorous answered, that they were going to 
the city of Zion, and had got up that difficult 
place : " but," said he, " the farther we go, the 
more danger we meet with ; wherefore we 
turned, and are going back again." 

"Yes," said Mistrust, "for just before us 
lie a coujile of lions in the way, whether 
sleeping or waking we know not ; and we 
could not think, if we came within reach, but 
they would presently pull us in pieces." 

Chris. Then said Christian, " You make 
me afraid ; but whither shall I fly to be safe ? 
If I go back to my own country, that is pre- 
pared for fire and brimstone, and I shall cer- 
tainly perish there ; if I can get to the Celes- 
tial City, I am sure to be in safety there : I 
must venture. To go back is nothing but 




' IIo at last fell into a sliiniher.' 



CHRISTIAN LOSES HIS ROLL. 



63 



•death ; to go forward is fear of death, and life everlasting bej'ond it. I will yet go 
forward." So Mistrust and Timorous ran down the hill, and Christian went on his 
way. But, thinking again of what he heard from the men, he felt in his bosom 
for his roll, and found it not. Then was Christian in great distress, and knew not 
what to do : for he wanted that which 
used to relieve him, and that which 
should have been his pass into the 
Celestial City. Here, therefore, he 
began to be much perplexed, and 
knew not what to do. At last he 
bethought himself that he had slept 
in the arbor that is on the side of 
the hill ; and, falling down upon his 
knees, he asked God's forgiveness for 
that his foolish act, and then went 
back to look for his roll. But all 
the way he went back, who can 
sufficiently set forth the sorrow of 
Christian's lieart? Sometimes he 
sighed, sometimes he wept, and often- 
times he chid himself for being so 
foolish to fall asleep in that place, 
which was erected only for a little 
refreshment from his weariness. 
Thus, therefore, he went back, care- 
fully looking on this side and on 
that, all the way as he went, if hap- 
pily^he might find his roll that had 
been his comfort so many times in 
his journey. He went thus till he 
came again within sight of the arbor 
where he sat and slept ; but that sight renewed his sorrow the more, by bringing 
again, even afresh, his evil of sleeping into his mind.*^ Thus, therefore, he now went 
on, bewailing his sinful sleep, saying, " O wretched man that I am, that I should sleep 
in the day-time ; that I should sleep in the midst of difficulty ! that I should so indulge 
the flesh, as to use tbat rest for ease to my flesh which the Lord of the hill hath 




Mistrust. 



64 



THE PILGRIAPS PROGRESS. 



erected only for the rc4iet' of the spirits of pilgrims ! How many steps have I tnkeii 
in vain! Thus it happened to Israel; for their sin they were sent back again l)v the 
way of the E,ed Sea; and I am made to tread those steps with sorrow which I miglit 
liave ti-od with delight, had it not hvcn for this sinful sleep. How far might I have 

been on my way by this time ! I 
am made to tread those steps 
thrice over which I needed not 
to have trod but once; yea, also, 
now I am like to be benighted, 
for the day is almost spent. Oh 
that I had not slept ! " 

Now, liy tliis time he was come 
to the arbor again, where for 
awhile lie sat down and wept; 
but at last (as Providence would 
have it), looking sorrowfully 
down under the settle, there he 
r espied his roll, the Avliich he, with 
trembling and haste, catched up, 
and put it into his bosom. But 
who can tell how joyful this man 
Avas when he had gotten his roll 
again ? for this roll was the assur- 
ance of his life and acceptance at 
the desired haven. Therefore he- 
laid it up in his bosom, giving- 
thanks to God for directing his 
eye to the place where it lay, and 
with joy and tears betook liimself 
again to his journey. But oh, 
how nimbly now did he go up the 
rest of the hill ! Yet, before he got up, the sun went down upon Christian ; and this 
made him again recall the vanity of his sleeping to his remembrance ; and thus he 
began again to condole with himself, " Oh, thou sinful sleep ! how for thy sake am I 
like to be benighted in my journey. I must walk without the sun, darkness must 
cover the I'aili of my feet, and I must hear the noise of the doleful creatures, because 




V:^ 



Ti morons. 



WATCHFUL THE PORTER. 



65 



of my sinful sleep ! " Now also he remembered the story that Mistrust and Timorous 
told him, of how they were frighted with tlie sight of the lions. Then said Christian 
to himself again, " These beasts range in the night for their i^rey ; and if they should 
meet with me in the dark, how should I shift them? how should I escape being torn 
in* pieces?" Thus he went on his way. But, while he was thus bewailing his un- 
happy miscarriage, he lifted up his eyes, and behold, there was a very stately palace 
before him, the name of which was Beautiful, and it stood just by the highway side. 

So I saw in my dream that he made haste, 
and went forward, that, if possible, he might 
get lodging there. Now, before he had gone 
far, he entered into a veiy narrow passage, 
which was about a furlong off the Porter's 
lodge ; and looking very narrowly before him 
as he went, he espied two lions in the way. 
Now, thought he, I see the dangers that Mis- 
trust and Timorous were driven back by. 
(The lions were chained, but he saw not the 
chains.) Then he was afraid, and thought 
also himself to go back after them ; for he 
thought nothing but death was before him. 
But the Porter at the lodge, whose n;ime is 
Watchful, perceiving that Christian made a 
halt as if he would go back, cried out unto 
him, saying, " Is thy strength so small ?®^ fear 
ndt the lions, for they are chained, and are 
placed there for the trial of faith where it is, 
and for the discovery of those that have none : keep in the midst of the path, and no 
hurt shall come unto thee." 

Then I saw that he went on trembling for fear of the lions ; but, taking good heed 
to the directions of the Porter, he heard them roar, but they did him no harm. Then 
he clapped his hands, and went on till he came and stood before the gate where the 
Porter was. Then said Christian to the Porter, "Sir, what house is this? and may I 
lodge here to-night ? " 

The Porter answered, " This house was built by the Lord of the hill, and He built 
it for the relief and security of pilgrims." The Porter also asked whence he was, and 
whither he was going. 

9 




Watuliful tlie Porter. 




Christian sees Lions in his Path. 

' The lions were chained, but he saw not the chaius.' 



(66) 



CHRISTIAN MEETS DISCRETION. 67 

CiiRis. I am pome from the City of Destruction, and am going to ]\Iount Zion ; but, 
because the sun is now set, I desire, if I may, to lodge here to-night. 

Poet. AVliat is your name? 

Chkis. My name is now Christian, l)ut my name at the first was Graceless. I came 
of the race of Japhet, whom God will persuade to dwell in the tents of Shem.'* 

Port. But how doth it happen that you come so late? The sun is set. 

Chris. I had been here sooner, but that, wretched man that I am, I slept in the 
ai'bor that stands .on the hill-side. Nay, I had, notwithstanding that, been here much 
sooner, but that in my sleep I lost my evidence, and came without it to the brow of 
the hill ; and then, feeling for it and finding it not, I was forced with sorrow of heart 
to go back to the place where I slept my sleep, where I found it ; and now I am come. 

Poet. Well, I will call out one of the virgins of this place, who will, if she likes 
your talk, bring you in to the rest of the family, according to the rules of the house. 

80 Watchful the Porter rang a bell, at the sound of which came out of the door of 
the house a grave and beautiful damsel, named Discretion, and asked why slie was 
called. 

The Porter answered, "This man is on a journey from the City of Destruction to 
Mount Zion ; but, being weary and benighted, he asked me if he might lodge here to- 
night : so I told him I would call for thee, who, after discourse had with him, mayest 
do as seemeth thee good, even according to the law of the house." 

Then she asked him whence he was, and whither he was going ; and he told her. 
She asked him also how he got into the way ; and he told her. Then she asked him 
what he had seen and met with on the way ; and he told her. And at last she asked 
his name. So he said, " It is Christian ; and I have so much the more a desire to lodge 
here to-night, because, by what I perceive, this place was built by the Lord of the liill 
for the relief and security of pilgrims." So she smiled, but the water stood in her eyes ; 
and, after a little pause, she said, " I will call forth two or three of my family." So she 
ran to the door, and called out Prudence, Piety, and Charity, who, after a little more 
discourse with him, had him in to the family ; and many of them, meeting him at the 
threshold of the hou.se, said, " Come in, thou blessed of the Lord : this house Avas built 
by the Lord of the hill on purpose to entertain such pilgrims in." Then he bowed his 
head, and followed them into the house. So, when he was come in and sat down, they 
gave him something to drink, and consented together, that, until supper was ready, 
some of them should have some particular discourse with Christian, for the best im- 
provement of time ; and they appointed Piety, Prudence, and Charity to discourse with 
him ; and thus they began : 



68 THE PILGRBPS PROGRESf^. 

Piety. Come, good Christian, since we have been so loving to you to receive you 
into our liousc this night, let us, if perhaps we may better ourselves tliereby, talk with 
you of all things that have happened to you in your ])ilgrimage. 

Chris. With a very good will, and I am glad that you are so well disposed. 

Piety. What moved you at first to betake yourself to a pilgrim's life? 

Chkis. I was driven out of my native country by a dreadful sound that was in mine 
ears ; to wit, that unavoidable destruction did attend me, if I abode in that place where 
I was. 

Piety. But how did it happen that you came out of your country this way ? 

Cheis. It was as God would have it; for, when I was under the fears of destruction, 
I did not know whither to go; but by chance there came a man even to me, as I was 
trembling and weeping, whose name is Evangelist, and he directed me to the Avicket- 
gate, which else I should never have found, and so set me in the way that hath led me 
directly to this house. 

Piety. But did yojLi not come by the house of the Interpreter? 

Chris. Yes, and did see such things there, the remembrance of which will stick bv 
me as long as I live, especially three things; to wit, how Christ, in despite of Satan, 
maintains His work of grace in the heart; how the man had sinned himself quite out 
of hopes of God's mercy ; and also the dream of him that thought in his sleep the day 
of judgment was come. 

Piety. Why? did you hear him tell his dream? 

Chris. Yes, and a dreadful one it was, I thought: it made my heart ache as he was 
telling of it; but yet I am glad I heard of it. 

Piety. Was that all you saw at the house of the Interpreter? 

Chris. No; he took me, and had me where he showed me a stately palace; and 
how the 2>eople were clad in gold that were in it; and how there came a venturous 
man, and cut his way through the armed men that stood in the door to keep him out; 
and how he was bid to come in and win eternal o;lorv. Methou2;ht those things did 
ravish my heart. I would have stayed at that good man's house a twelvemonth, but 
that I knew I had farther to sro. 

Piety. And what saw you else in the way ? 

Chris. Saw? Why, I went but a little farther, and I saw One, as I thought in my 
mind, hang bleeding upon a tree ; and the very sight of Him made my burden fall off" 
my back ; for I groaned under a very heavy burden, and then it fell down from off 
me. It was a strange thing to me, for I never saw such a thing before ; yea, and while 
I stooil looking up (for then I could not forbear looking), three Shining Ones came to 




The Porter meets Christian axd calls Discretion to the Palace Door. 

"This mau is ou a journey from the City of Destruction to Jlouut Zion." 



(69) 



70 THE PILGRDrS PROGRESS. 

me. One of them testified that my sins were forgiven me ; another stripped me of my 
rags, and gave me this broidered coat which you see ; and the third set the mark which 
you see in my forehead, and gave me this sealed roll. (And, with that, he plucked it 
out of his bosom.) 

Pjety. But you saw more than this, did you not? 

Chris. The things that I have told you were the best ; yet some other matters I 
saw ; as namely, I saw three men. Simple, Sloth, and Presumption, lie asleep, a little 
out of the way as I came, with irons upon their heels ; but do you think I could wake 
them? I also saw Formalist and Hypocrisy come tumbling over the wall, to go, as 
they pretended, to Zion ; but they were quickly lost, even as I myself did tell them, 
but they would not believe. But, above all, I found it hard work to get up this hill, 
and as hard to come by the lions' mouths ; and truly, if it had not been for the good 
man the Porter, that stands at the gate, I do not know but that, after all, I might have 
gone back again ; but now I thank God I am here, and I thank you for receiving 
of me. 

Then Prudence thought good to ask him a few questions, and desired his answer to 
them. 

Pru. Do you think sometimes of the country from whence you came? 

Chris. Yes, but with much shame and detestation. Truly, if I had been mindful 
of that country from whence I came out, I might have had an opportunity to have 
returned ; but now I desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one.*'* 

Pru. Do you not yet bear away with you some of the things that then you were 
conversant withal ? 

Chris. Yes, but greatly against my will ; especially my inward and carnal cogita- 
tions, with which all my countrymen, as well as myself, were delighted. But now all 
those things are my grief; and, might I but choose mine own things, I would choose 
never to think of those things more ; but when I would be doing that which is best, 
that which is worst is with me.*" 

Pru. Do you not find sometimes as if those things were vanquished, which at other 
times are your perplexity ? 

Chris. Yes, but that is but seldom; but they are to me golden hours in which such 
things happen to me. 

Pru. Can you remember by what means you find your annoyances, at times, as if 
they were vanquished ? 

Chris. Yes ; when I think what I saw at the cross, that will do it ; and when I look 
upon my broidered coat, that will do it; also when I look into the roll that I carry in 



■ CHARITY CONVERSFJS WITH CHRISTIAN. 71 

my l)Osom, that will do it ; anil when my thoughts wax warm about whither I am 
going, that will do it. 

Pru. And what makes you so desirous to go to Mount Zion ? 

Chris. Why, there I hoj^e to see Him alive that did haug dead on the cross ; and 
there I hope to be rid of all those things that to this day are in me an annoyance to 
me. There, they say, there is no death f and there I shall dwell with such company 
as I like best> For, to tell you the truth, I love Him because I was by Him eased of 
my burden ; and I am weary of my inward sickness. I would fain be where I sliall 
die no more, and with the comijany that shall continually cry, " Holy, holy, holy ! " 

Char. Then said Charity to Christian, " Have you a family ? are you a married 
man ? " 

Chris. I have a wife and four small children. 

Char. And why did you not bring them along with you ? 

Chris. Then Christian wept, and said, "Oh, how willingly would I have done it! 
but they were all of them utterly averse to my going on pilgrimage." 

Char. But you should have talked to them, and endeavored to have shown them 
the danger of staying behind. 

Chris. So I did, and told them also what God had shown to me of the destruction 
of our city ; but I seemed to them as one that mocked, and they believed me not.*' 

Char. And did you pray to God that He would bless your counsel to them ? 

Chris. Yes, and that with much affection; for you must think that my wife and 
poor children were very dear unto me. 

Char. But did you tell them of your own sorrow and fear of destruction ? for I 
suppose that destruction was visible enough to you. 

Chris. Yes, over, and over, and over. They might also see my fears in my coun- 
tenance, in my tears, and also in my trembling under the apprehension of the judgment 
that did hang over our heads: but all was not sufficient to prevail with them to come 
with me. 

Char. But what could they say for themselves why they came not ? 

Chris. Why, ray wife was afraid of losing this world, and my children were given 
to the foolish delights of youth ; so, what by one thing, and what by another, they left 
me to wander in this manner alone. 

Char. But did you not, with your vain life, damp all that you by words used by 
way of jjersuasion to bring them away with you ? 

Chris. Indeed, I cannot commend my life, for I am conscious to inyself of many 
failings therein. I know also, that a man, by his conversation, may soon overthrow 



72 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

what, by argument or persuasion, he doth labor to fasten upon others for their good. 
Yet this I can say, I was very wary of giving them occasion, by any unseemly action, 
to make them averse to going on pilgrimage. Yea, for this very thing they would tell 
me I was too precise, and that I denied myself of things (for their sakes) in which they 
saw no evil. Nay, I think I may say that, if what they saw in me did hinder them, 
it was my great tenderness in sinning against God, or of doing any wrong to my 
neighbor. 

Char. Indeed, Cain hated his brother*" because his own works were evil, and his 
brother's righteous ; and, if thy wife and children have been offended with thee for 
this, they thereby show themselves to be implacable to good : thou hast delivered thy 
soul from their blood.*' 

Now I saw in my dream, that thus they sat talking together till supper was ready. 
So, when they had made ready, they sat down to meat. Now, the table was furnished 
with fat things, and wine that was well refined ; and all their talk at the table was 
about the Lord of the hill ; as, namely, about what He had done, and wherefore He 
did what He did, and why he had builded that house ; and by what they said, I per- 
ceived that He had been a great warrior, and had fought with and slain him that had 
the power of death,''^ but not without great danger to Himself, which made me love 
Him the more. 

For, as they said, and as I believe (said Christian), He did it with the loss of much 
blood. But that which puts the glory of grace into all He did, was, that He did it 
out of pure love to this country. And, besides, there were some of them of the house- 
hold that said they had seen and spoke with Him since He did die on the cross ; and 
they have attested that they had it from His own lips, that He is such a lover of poor 
pilgrims, that the like is not to be found from the east to the west. They moreover 
gave an instance of what they affirmed ; and that was, He had stripped Himself of 
His glory, that He might do this for the poor ; and that they had heard Him say and 
affirm that He would not dwell in tlie mountains of Zion alone. Thev said, moreover, 
that He had made many j^ilgriras princes, though by nature they were beggars born, 
and their original had been the dunghill."^ 

Thus they discoursed together till late at night; and, after they had committed 
themselves to their Lord for protection, they betook themselves to rest. The Pilgrim 
thev laid in a large upper chamber, whose window opened towards the sunrising. The 
name of the chamber was Peace, where he slept till break of day, and then he awoke 
and sang, 




( HRTSTIAN IN THE AllMOTlY RECEtMNG HIS MlvAPONS FROM 
DISCRETION, PIETY, CHMllTYxVND PRUDENCE. 



THE VIRGINS READ TO CHRISTIAN. 78 

"Where am T now? Is this the love and care 
• Of Jesus, for the men that pilgrims are, 

Thus to provide that I should be forgiven, 
And dwell already the next door to heaven?" 

So in the morning they all got up ; and after some more discourse, they told him that 
he should not depart till they had shown him the rarities of that place. And first they 
had him into the study, where they showed him records of the greatest antiquity ; in 
which, as I remember in my dream, they showed him first the pedigree of the Lord 
of the hill, that He was the son of the Ancient of Days, and came by an eternal 
generation. Here also were more fully recorded the acts that He had done, and the 
names of many hundreds that He had taken into his service ; and how he had placed 
them in such habitations that could neither by length of days nor decays of nature be 
dissolved. 

Then they read to him some of the worthy acts that some of His servants had done ; 
as, how they had subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped 
the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out 
of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, and turned to flight the armies 
of the aliens.'^ 

They then read again in another part of the records of the house, where it was 
shown how willing their Lord was to receive into His favor any, even any, though 
they in time past had offered great affronts to His person and proceedings. Here also 
were several other histories of many other famous things, of all which Christian had a 
view ; as of things both ancient and modern, together with pro23hecies and predictions 
of things that have their certain accomplishments, both to the dread and amazement 
of enemies, and the comfort and solace of pilgrims. 

The next day they took him and had him into the armory, where they showed him 
all manner of furniture which their Lord had provided for pilgrims ; as ^word, shield, 
helmet, breast-plate, all-prayer, and shoes that would not wear out. And there was 
here enough of this to harness out as many men for the service of their Lord as there 
be stars in the heaven for multitude. 

They also showed him some of the engines with which some of His servants had 
■done wonderful things. They showed him Moses' rod ; the hammer and nail with 
which Jael slew Sisera; the pitchers, trumpets, and lamps too, with which Gideon put 
to flight the armies of Midian. Then they showed him the ox's goad wherewith 
Shamgar slew six hundred men. They showed him also the 'jaw-bone with wliich 
Samson did such mighty feats. They showed him, moreover, the sling and stone 

10 




DiatRETioN, Piety, Charity and Prudence instruct Christian at the Palace Beautiful. 

" Then they read to him some of the worthy acts that some of His servants had done." (74) 



CHRISTIAN GOES FORWARD. 75- 

with which David slew Goliath of Gatli, and the sword also with which their Lord will 
kill the Man of Sin, in the day that He shall rise np to the prey. They showed him, 
besides, many excellent things, with which Christian was much delighted. This done, 
they went to their rest again. 

Then I saw in my dream that on the morrow he got up to go forward, but they 
desired him to stay till the next day also; "and then," said they, " we will, if the day 
be clear, show you the Delectable Mountains ;" which they said would yet further add 
to his comfort, because they were nearer the desired haven than the place where at 
present he was. So he consented and stayed. When the morning was up, they had 
him to the top of the house, and bid him look south. So he did, and behold, at a 
great distance he saw a most pleasant mountainous country, beautified with woods, 
vineyards, fruits of all sorts, flowers also, with springs and fountains, very delectable to 
behold.'* Then he asked the name of the countrj'. They said it was Immanuel's. 
Land ; " and it is as common," said they, " as this hill is, to and for all the pilgrims. 
And when thou comest there, from thence thou mayest see to the gate of the Celestial 
City, as the shepherds that live there will make appear." 

Now he bethought himself of setting forward, and they were willing he should. " But, 
first," said they, " let us go again into the armory." So they did ; and when he came 
there, they harnessed him from head to foot with what was of proof, lest perhaps he 
should meet with assaults ill the way. He being, therefore, thus accoutred, walked out 
with his friends to the gate ; and there he asked the Porter if he saw any pilgrim pass. 
by. Then the Porter answered, " Yes." 

Chris. " Pray did you know him ? " said he. 

Port. I asked his name, and he told me it was Faithful. 

Chris. " Oh," said Christian, " I know him, he is my townsman, my near neighbor ; 
he comes from the place where I was born. How far do you think he may be before? " 

Port. He has got by this time below the hill. 

Chris. "Well," said Christian, "good Porter, the Lord be with thee, and add to all 
thy blessings much increase for the 'kindness thou has showed to me ! " 

Then he began to go forward ; but Discretion, Piety, Charity, and Prudence would 
accompany him down to the foot of the hill. So they went on together, reiterating 
their former discourses, till they came to go down the hill. Then said Christian, " As 
it was difficult coming up, so, so far as I can see, it is dangerous going down." " Yes," 
said Prudence. " so it is ; for it is a hard matter for a man to go down the Valley of 
Humiliation, as thou art now, and to catch no slip by the way; therefore," said they^ 



76 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

■"are we come out to accompany thee down the hill." So he began to go down, but 
very warily ; yet he caught a slip or two. 

Then I saw in my dream that these good companions, when Christian was gone down 
to the bottom of the hill, gave him a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and a cluster of 
raisins ; and then he went his way. 




CHAPTER IV. 

UT now, in this Valley of Humiliation, poor Christian was hard put to it ; for he 
had gone but a little way before he espied a foul fiend coming over the field to 

f/^ meet him : his name is Apollyon. Then did Christian begin to be afraid, and to 
cast in his mind whether to go back or to stand his ground. But he considered 
again that he had no armor for his back, and therefore thought that to turn the back 
to him might give him greater advantage with ease to pierce him with his darts ; 
therefore he resolved to venture and stand his ground ; for, thought he, had I no 
more in mine eye than the saving of ray life, it would be the best way to stand. 

So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now, the monster was hideous to behold : 
he was clothed with scales like a fish, and they are his pride ; he had wings like a 
dragon, and feet like a bear, and out of his belly came fire and smoke ; and his mouth 
was as the mouth of a lion. When he was come up to Christian, he beheld him with 
a disdainful countenance, and thus began to question with him : 

Apollyon. Whence come you, and whither are you bound ? 

Chris. I am come from the City of Destruction, which is the place of all evil, and 
am going to the City of Zion. 

Apol. By this I perceive that thou art one of my subjects ; for all that country is 
mine, and I am the prince and god of it. How is it, then, that thou hast run away 
from thy king ? Were it not that I hope that thou mayest do me more service, I would 
strike thee now at one blow to the ground. 

Chris. I was indeed born in your dominions ; but your service was hard, and your 
wages such as a man could not live on ; for the wages of sin is death ; ^' therefore, when 
I was come to years, I did as other considerate persons do, look out, if perhaps I might 
mend myself 

Apol. There is no prince that will thus lightly lose his subjects, neither will I as yet 



APOLLYON STAYS CHRISTIAN. 77 

lose thee ; but, since thou complainest of thy service and wages, be content to go back, 
and what our country will afford I do here promise to give thee. 

Chris. But I have let myself to another, even to tlie King of princes; and how can 
I with fairness go back with thee ? 

Apol. Thou hast done in this according to the proverb, " changed a bad for a worse ; " 
but it is ordinary for those that have professed themselves His servants, after awhile to 
give Him the slip, and return again to me. Do thou so too, and all shall be well. 

Chris. I have given Him my faith, and sworn my allegiance to Him ; how, then, 
can I go back from this, and not be hanged as a traitor? 

Apol. Thou didst the same to me, and yet I am willing to pass by all, if now thou 
wilt vet turn a2;ain and go back. 

Chris. What I promised thee was in my nonage [youth] ; and besides, I count that 
the Prince under whose banner I now stand is able to absolve me, yea, and to pardon 
also what I did as to my compliance with thee. And besides, O thou destroying 
Apollyon, to speak the truth, I like His service, His wages, His servants, His govern- 
ment, His company, and country, better than thine ; therefore leave off to persuade me 
further : I am His servant, and I will follow Him. 

Apol. Consider again when thou art in cold blood, what thou art likely to meet 
with in the way that thou goest. Thou knowest that for the most part His servants 
come to an ill end, because they are transgressors against me and my ways. How 
many of them have been put to shameful deaths ! And besides, tliou countest His 
service better than mine ; whereas He never came yet from the place where He is, to 
deliver any that served Him out of their hands ; but as for me, how many times, as all 
the world very well knows, have I delivered, either by power or fraud, thost that have 
faithfully served me, from Him and His, though taken by them ! And so I will de- 
liver thee. 

Chris. His forbearing at present to deliver them is on purpose to try their love, 
whether they will cleave to Him to the end ; and, as for the ill end thou sayest they 
come to, that is most glorious in their account. For, for present deliverance, they do 
not much expect it; for they stay for their glory, and then they shall have it when 
their Prince conies in His and the glory of the angels. 

Apol. Thou hast already been unfaithful in thy service to Him ; and how dost thou 
think to receive wages of Him ? 

Chris. Wherein, O Apollyon, have I been unfaithful to Him ? 

Apol. Thou didst faint at first setting out, when thou wast almost choked in the 
Gulf of Despond. Thou didst attempt wrong ways to be rid of thy burden, whereas 



78 THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 

tliou shouldst have stayed till thy Prince liail taken it off. 'Hiou did.st sinfully sleep, 
and lose thy choice things. Thou wast almost ]iersuaded to go back at the sight of the 
lions. And when thou talkest of thy journey, and of what thou hast seen and heard, 
thou art inwardly desirous of vain-glory in all that thou sayest or doest. 

Chris. All this is true, and much more which thou hast left out ; but the Prince 
whom I serve and honor is merciful and ready to forgive. But besides, these infirmi- 
ties possessed me in thy own country ; for there I sucked them in, and I have groaned 
under them, been sorry for them, and have obtained pardon of my Prince. 

Apol. Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, saying, " I am an enemy to 
this Prince ; I hate His person. His laws, and people. I am come out on purpose to 
withstand thee." 

Chris. Apollyon, beware what you do, for I am in the King's highway, the way of 
holiness : therefore take heed to yourself. 

Apol. Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole breadth of the way, and said, 
" I am void of fear in this matter. Prepare thyself to die ; for I swear by my infernal 
den, that thou shalt go no farther : here will I spill thy soul." And, with that, he threw 
a flaming dart at his breast; but Christian held a shield in his hand, with which he 
caught it, and so prevented the danger of that. 

Then did Christian draw, for he saw it was time to bestir him ; and Apollyon as 
fast made at him, throwing darts as thick as hail, by the which, notwithstanding all 
that Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyon wounded him in his head, his hand, and 
foot. This made Christian give a little back ; Apollyon, therefore, followed his work 
amain, and Christian again took courage, and resisted as manfully as he could. This 
«ore combat lasted for above half a day, even till Christian was almost quite spent. 
For you must know that Christian, by reason of his wounds, must needs grow weaker 
.and weaker. 

Then Apollyon, espying his o[)portunity, began to gather up close to Christian, and, 
wrestling with |iim, gave him a dreadful fall ; and, with that^ Christian's sword flew out 
of his hand. Then said Apollyon, " I am sure of thee now." And, with that, he had 
almost pressed him to death, so that Christian began to despair of life. But, as God 
would have it, while Apollyon was fetching his last blow, thereby to make a full end 
of this good man, Christian nimbly reached out his hand for his sword, and caught it, 
«aying, " Kejoice not against me, O mine enemy : when I fall I shall arise ; " ""^ and, 
with that, gave him a deadly thrust, which made him give back, as one that had received 
his mortal wound. Christian, perceiving that, made at him again, saying, " Nay, in 
all these things we are more than conquerors through Him that loved us." °^ And, 



CHRISTIAN GIVES THANKS. 



79 



with tliat, Apollyon spread forth his (h-agon's wings, and sped liini away, that Christian 
for a season saw him no more.''** 

In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen and heard, as I did, what 
3^elling and hideous roaring Apollyon made all the time of the fight : he spake like a 
dragon ; and, on the other side, what sighs and groans burst from Christian's heart. I 
never saw him all the while give so much as one pleasant look, till he perceived he 
had wounded Apollyon with his two-edged sword ; then, indeed, he did smile and look 
upward ; but it was the dreadfullest sight that ever I saw. 

Chris. So, when the battle was over. Christian said, " I will here give thanks to 
Him tliat hath delivered me out of the mouth of the lion ; to Him that did help me 
against Apollyon." And so he did, saying, 

"GiViit Beelzebub, the captain of this fieiiil, 
Designed my ruin : therefore to this end 
He sent him harnessed out ; and he with rage 
That hellish was, did fiercely me engage : 
But blessed Michael helped me ; and I, 
By dint of sword, did quickly make him fly : 
Therefore to Him* lot me give lasting praise, 
And thank and blc.-^s His holy name always." 

Then there came to him a hand with some 
of the leaves of the tree of life ; the which 
Christian took, and ap2:)lied to the wounds that 
he had received in the battle, and was healed 
immediately. He also sat down in that place 
to eat bread, and to drink of the bottle that 
was given to him a little before : so, being 
refreshed, he addressed himself to his jour- 
ney, with his sword drawn in his hand ; " For," 
he said, " I know not but some other enemy may 
be at hand." But he met with no other affront 
from Apollyon quite through this valley. 

Now, at the end of this valley was another, called the Valley of the Shadow of Death ; 
and Christian must needs go through it, because the way to the Celestial City lay 
through the midst of it. Now this valley is a very solitary jilace ; the ^^rophet Jere- 
miah thus describes it : "A wilderness, a land of deserts and pits, a land of drought, 




(iiviu,;; tliaiiks for his (lelivenmcc from Apollyon. 



* Videlidt, to God.— Ed. 



80 THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 

and of the shadow of death, a land that no man " but a Christian " jiasseth through, 
and where no man dwelt." '" 

Now here Christian was worse put to it than in his fight with Apollyon, as by the 
sequel you shall see. 

I saw then in my dream, that when Christian was got to the borders of the Shadow 
of Death, there met him two men, children of them that brought up an evil report of 
the good land, making haste to go back ; to whom Christian spake as follows : 

Chris. Whither are you going ? 

Men. They said, " Back, back ! and we would have you to do so too, if either life 
or peace is prized by you." 

Chris. " Why, what's tlie matter ? " said Christian. 

Men. " Matter ! " said they : " we were going that way as you are going, and went 
as far as we durst: and indeed we were almost past coming back ; for had we gone a 
little farther, we had not been here to bring the news to thee." 

Chris. " But what have you met with ? " said Christian. 

Men. Wliy, we were almost in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, but that by good 
hap we looked before us, and saw the danger before we came to it.^" 

Chris. '• But what have you seen ? " said Christian. 

Men. Seen ! why, the valley itself, which is as dark as pitch : we also saw there the 
hobgoblins, satyrs, and dragons of the pit ; we lieard also in that valley a continual 
howling and yelling, as of a people under unutterable misery, who there sat bound in 
affliction and irons ; and over that hung the discouraging clouds of confusion ; Death 
also does always spread his wings over it. In a word, it is every whit dreadful, being 
utterly without order. "^ 

Chris. Then said Christian, " I perceive not yet, by what you have said, but that 
this is my way to the desired haven." ^"^ 

Men. Be it thy way, we will not choose it for ours. 

So they parted, and Christian went on his way, but still with his sword drawn in his 
hand, for fear lest he should be assaulted. 

I saw then in my dream, as far as this valley reached, there was on the right hand 
a very deep ditch ; that ditch is it into which the blind have led the blind in all ages, 
and have both there miserably perished. Again, behold, on the left hand there was a 
very dangerous quag, into which, if even a good man falls, he finds no bottom for his 
foot to stand on : into that quag King David once did fall, and had no doubt there 
been smothered, had not He that is able plucked him out. 

The pathway was here also exceedingly narrow, and therefore good Christian was 



THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 



81 



the more put to it ; for when he sought, in the dark, to shun the ditch on the one hand, 
he was ready to tip over into the mii"e on the other ; also when he sought to escape 
the mire, without great carefuhiess he would be ready to fall into the ditch. Thus he 
went on, and I heard him here sigh bitterly, for besides the danger mentioned above, 
the pathway was here so dark, that ofttimes, when he lifted up his foot to go forward, 
he knew not where or upon what he should set it next. 

About the midst of this valley I j^erceived the mouth of hell to be, and it stood also 
hard by the wayside. Now, thought Christian, 
what shall I do ? And ever and anon the 
flame and smoke would come out in such 
abundance, with sparks and hideous noises 
(things that cared not for Christian's sword, 
as did Apollyon before), that he was forced to 
put up his sword, and betake himself to another 
weapon, called " All-Prayer." ^"^ So he cried 
in my hearing, " O Lord, I beseech Thee, de- 
liver my soul."^"* Thus he went on a great 
while, yet still the flames would be reaching 
towards him ; also he heard doleful voices, and 
rushings to and fro, so that sometimes he 
thought he should be torn in pieces, or trodden 
down like mire in the streets. This frightful 
sight was seen, and those dreadful noises were 
heard by him, for several miles together, and, 
coming to a place where he thought he heard 
a comjaany of fiends coming forward to meet 
him, he stopped, and began to muse what he had best to do. Sometimes he had half 
a thought to go back ; then again he thought he might be half-way through the valley. 
He remembered, also, how he had already vanquished many a danger, and that the 
danger of going back might be much more than going forward. So he resolved to go 
on ; yet the fiends seemed to come nearer and nearer. But, when they were come even 
almost at him, he cried out with a most vehement voice, " I will walk in the strength 
of the Lord God." So they gave back, and came no farther. 

One thing I would not let slip : I took notice that now poor Christian was so con- 
founded that he did not know his own voice; and thus I perceived it: just when he 

was come over against the mouth of the burning pit, one of the wicked ones got behind 

11 




" A company of fieuds." 



82 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

him, and stepped up softly to him, and whisperingly suggested many grievous blas- 
phemies to him, which he verily thought had proceeded from his own mind. This 
put Christian more to it than anything he had met with before, even to think that he 
should now blaspheme Him that he had so much loved before. Yet, if he could have 
helped it, he would not have done it ; but he had not the discretion either to stop his 
ears, or to know from whence those blasphemies came. 

When Christian had travelled in this disconsolate condition some considerable time, 
he thought he heard the voice of a man, as going before him, saying, " Though I walk 
through the Valley of the Shadow of Death I will fear no evil ; for Thou art with 
me." '"^ = 

Then he was glad, and that for these reasons : 

First, — Because he gathered from thence, that some who feared God were in thia 
valley as well as himself. 

Secondly, — For that he perceived God was with them, though in that dark and 
dismal state. And why not, thought he, with me, though by reason of the impedi- 
ment that attends this jilace, I cannot perceive it ? ^'^ 

Thirdly, — For that he hoped (could he overtake them) to have company by-and-bye. 
So he went on, and called to him that was before ; but he knew not what to answer, 
for that he also thought himself to be alone. And by-and-bye the day broke. Then 
said Christian, " He hath turned the shadow of death into the morning." '"^ 

Now, morning being come, he looked back, not out of desire to return, but to see, 
by the light of the day, what hazards he had gone through in the dark. So he saw 
more perfectly the ditch that was on the one hand, and the quag that was on the 
other ; also how narrow the way was which led betwixt them both. Also now he saw 
the hobgoblins, and satyrs, and dragons of the pit, but all afar off; for after break of 
day they came not nigh ; yet they were discovered to him according to that which is 
written, " He discovereth deep things out of darkness, and bringeth out to light the 
shadow of death." 1"^ 

Now was Christian much affected with his deliverance from all the dangers of his 
solitary way ; which dangers, though he feared them mucli before, yet he saw them 
more clearly now, because the light of the day made them conspicuous to him. And 
about this time the sun was rising, and this was another mercy to Christian ; for you 
must note that, though the first part of the Valley of the Shadow of Death was dan- 
gerous, yet this second part, which he was yet to go, was if possible far more dangerous ; 
for, from the place where he now stood, even to the end of the valley, the way was all 
along set so full of snares, traps, gins, and nets here, and so full of pits, pitfalls, deep 
holes, and shelvings down there, that, had it now been dark, as it was when he came 



X 




Christian meets a Company of Fiends in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. 

"One of the wicked cues got behind him, and whisperingly suggested many grievous blasphemies to him." (83> 



84 



THE PILGRDPS PROGRESS. 



the first part of the way, had he had a thousand souls, they had in reason been cast 
away. But, as I said just now, the sun was rising. Then said he, "His candle 
shineth on my head, and by His light I go through darkness." '™ 

In this light, therefore, lie came to the end of the valley. Now, I saw in my dream 
that at the end of the valley lay blood, bones, ashes, and mangled bodies of men, even 
of pilgrims that had gone this way formerly ; and, while I was musing what should be 
the reason, I espied a little before me a cave, where two giants, Pope and Pagax, 

dwelt in old time ; by whose power and 
tyranny, tlie men whose bones, blood, ashes, 
etc., lay there, were cruelly put to death. 
But by this place Christian went without 
danger, whereat I somewhat wondered ; but I 
have learnt since, that Pagan has been dead 
many a day ; and, as for the other, though 
he be yet alive, he is, by reason of age, also 
of the many shrewd brushes that he met with 
in his younger days, grown so crazy and stiff 
ill his joints, that he can now do little more 
than sit in his cave's mouth, grinning at jDil- 
grims as they go by, and biting his nails be- 
cause he cannot come at them. 

So I saw that Christian went on his way ; 
yet, at the sight of the old man that sat at the 
mouth of the cave, he could not tell what to 
think, especially because he spoke to him, 
though he could not go after him, saying, 
" You will never mend till more of you be 
burned." But he held his peace, and set a good face on it, and so went by and 
catched no hurt. Then sang Christian, 




*' He c.in now dolittk* more tliaii sit in his cave's mouth, 
griuuiiig at jiilgriius." 



"Oil, woi'M (if wonders (I can say no less), 
Tluit I shimlil be preserved in that distress 
That I have met with here ! Oil, blessed be 
That liand that from it hath delivered me ! 
Dangers in darkness, devils, hell, and sin, 
Did compass mo, while I this vale was in ; 
Yea, snares, and pits, and traps, and nets did lie 
^ly path abont, that wmthless, silly I 
Might have been calelied, entanded, and cast down ; 
But, since 1 live, let Jesus wear the crown." 



CHRISTIAN FIRST SEES FAITHFUL. 85 




CHAPTEK V. 

OW as Christian went on his way, he came to a little ascent which was cast up 
on purpose that pilgrims might see before them : up there, therefore, Christian 
'"%? went; and looking forward, he saw Faithful before him upon his journey. 
Then said Christian aloud; " Ho, ho ! so-ho ! stay, and I will be your com- 
panion." At that Faithful looked behind him ; to whom Christian cried, " Stay, stay, 
till I come up to you." But Faithful answered, " No, T am upon my life, and the 
avenger of blood is behind me." 

At this Christian was somewhat moved ; and putting to all his strength, he quickly 
got up with Faithful, and did also overrun him : so the last was first. Then did Chris- 
tian vain-gloriously smile, because he had gotten the start of his brother ; but, not 
taking good heed to his feet, he suddenly stumbled and fell, and could not rise again 
until Faithful came up to help him. 

Then I saw in my dream, they went very lovingly on together, and had sweet dis- 
course of all things that had happened to them in their pilgrimage ; and thus Christian 
began : 

Chris. jNIy honored and well-beloved brother Faithful, I am glad that I have over- 
taken you, and that God has so tempered our spirits that we can walk as companions 
in this so pleas;int a path. 

Faith. I had thought, dear friend, to have had your company quite from our town ; 
■but you did get the start of me, wherefore I was forced to come thus much of the way 
alone. 

Chris. How long did you stay in the City of Destruction before you set out after 
me on your j)ilgrimage ? 

Faith. Till 1 could stay no longer ; for there was great talk, presently after you 
were gone out, that our city would, in a short time, with fire from heaven, be burned 
down to the ground. 

Chris. What ! did your neighbors talk so ? 

Faith. Yes; it was for a while in everybody's mouth. 

Chris. What! and did no more of them but you come out to escape the danger? 

Faith. Though there was, as I said, a great talk thereabout, yet I do not think they 
did firmly believe it. For, in the heat of the discourse, I heard some of them derid- 
ingly speak of you, and of your desperate journey ; for so they called this your pil- 




Christian and Faithful Join Company. 

' He could not rise again until Faithful came up to help him." 



(86) 



WHAT WAS SAID IN THE CITY. 87 

griiuage. But I did believe, and do still, that the end of our city will be with fire and 
brimstone from above ; and therefore I have made my escape. 

Chris. Did you hear no talk of neighbor Pliable ? 

Faith. Yes, Christian ; I heard that he followed you till he came to the Slough of 
Despond, where, as some said, he fell in ; but he would not be known to have so done ; 
but I am sure he was soundly bedabbled with that kind of dirt. 

Chris. And what said the neighbors to him ? 

Faith. He hath, since his going back, been held greatly in derision, and that among 
all sorts of people : some do mock and despise him, and scarce any will set him on 
work. He is now seven times worse than if he had never gone out of the city. 

Chris. But why should they be so set against him, since they also despise the way 
that he forsook ? 

Faith. " Oh," they say, " hang him ; he is a turncoat ! he was not true to his pro- 
fession ! " I think God has stirred up even his enemies to hiss at him and make him 
a proverb, because he hath forsaken the way."" 

Chris. Had you no talk with him before you came out ? 

Faith. I met him once in the streets, but he leered away on the other side, as one 
ashamed of what he had done ; so I spake not to him. 

Chris. Well, at my first setting out, I had hopes of that man, but now I fear he will 
perish in the overthrow of the city. For it has happened to him according to the true 
proverb, " The dog is turned to his vomit again, and the sow that was washed to her 
wallowing in the mire.""^ 

Faith. Tliese are my fears of him too ; but who can hinder that which will be ? 

Chris. " Well, neighbor Faithful," said Christian, " let us leave him, and talk of 
things that more immediately concern ourselves. Tell me now what you have met 
with in the way as you came; for I know, you have met with some things, or else it 
may be writ for a wonder." 

Faith. I escaped the slough that I perceive you fell into, and got up to tlie gate 
without that danger; only I met with one whose name was Wanton, that had like to 
have done me a mischief. 

Chris. It was well you escajDed her net: Joseph was hard put to it by her, and he 
escaped her as you did ; but it had like to have cost him his life."" But what did she 
do to you ? 

Faith. You cannot think (but that you know something) what a flattering tongue 
she had ; she lay at me hard ,to turn aside with her, jiromising me all manner of 
content. 



88 THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 

Chris. Nay, she did not promise you the content of a good conscience. 

Faith. You know what I mean — all carnal and fleshly content. 

Chris. Thank God you have escaped her: the abhorred of the Lord shall fall into 
her ditch."^ 

Faith. Nay, I know not whether I did wholly escape her or no. 

Chris. Why, I trow you did not consent to her desires? 

Faith. No, not to defile myself; for I remembered an old writing that I had seen, 
which saith, "Her steps take hold of hell.""* So I shut mine eyes, because I would 
not be bewitched with her looks.^^^ Then she railed on me, and I went my way. 

Chris. Did you meet with no other assault as you came ? 

Faith. When I came to the foot of the hill called Difficulty, I met with a very 
aged man, who asked me what I was and whither bound. I told him that I was a 
pilgrim, going to the Celestial City. Then said the old man, " Thou lookest like an 
honest fellow : wilt thou be content to dwell with me, for the wages that I shall give 
thee?" Then I asked him his name, and where he dwelt. He said his name was 
Adam the First, and that he dwelt in the town of Deceit."" I asked him then what 
was his worlv, and what the wages that he would give. He told me that his work was 
many delights; and his wages, that I should be his heir at last. I further asked him 
what house he kept, and what other servants he had. So he told me that his house 
was maintained with all the dainties of the world, and that his servants were those of 
his own begetting. Then I asked him how many children he had. He said that he 
had but three daughters, the Lust of the Flesh, the Lust of the Eyes, and the Pride 
of Life,"^ and that I should marry them if I would. Then I asked, how long time 
he would have me live with liim ? And he told me. As long as he lived himself. 

Chris. Well, and what conclusion came the old man and you to at last ? 

Faith. Why, at first I found myself somewhat inclinable to go with the man, for I 
thought he spake very fair ; but looking in his forehead, as I talked with him, I saw 
there written, " Put off the old man with his deeds." 

Chris. And how then ? 

Faith. Then it came burning hot iiito my mind, whatever he said, and however he 
flattered, when he got me home to his house he would sell me for a slave. So I bid 
him forbear to talk, for I would not come near the door of his house. Then he reviled 
me, and told me that he would send such a one after me that should make my way 
bitter to my soul. So I turned to go away from him ; but, just as I turned myself to 
go thence, I felt him take hold of my flesh, and give me such a deadly twitch back, that 
I thought he had pulled part of me after himself: this made me cry, " O wretched 



FAITHFUL AND ADAM THE FIRST. 89 

man! "™ So I went on my way up the hill. Now, when I had got about half-way 
up, I looked behind me, and snw one coming aftei- me, swift as the wind ; so he over- 
took me j list about the place where the settle stands. 

Chris. " Just there," said Christian, " did I sit down to rest me ; but being overcome 
with sleep, I there lost this roll out of my bosom." 

Faith. But, good brother, hear me out. So soon as the man overtook me, he was 
but a word and a blow ; for down he knocked me, and laid me for dead But, when I 
was a little come to myself again, I asked him wherefore he served me so. He said, 
because of my secret inclining to Adam the First. And, with that, he struck me 
another deadly blow on the breast, and beat me down backwards ; so I lay at his feet 
as dead as before. So, when I came to myself again, I cried him mercy ; l)nt he said, 
" I know not how to show mercy ;" and, with that, he knocked me down again. He 
liad doubtless made an end of me, but that One came by, and bid him forbear. 

Chris. Who was that that bid him forbear ? 

Faith. I did not know him at first; but, as He went by, I perceived the holes in 
His hands and His side ; then I concluded that He was our Lord. So I went up the hill. 

Chris. That man that overtook you was Moses. He spareth none, neither knoweth 
he how to show mercy to those that transgress his law. 

Faith. I know it very well : it was not the first time that he has met with me. It 
was he that came to me when I dwelt securely at home, and that told me he would 
burn my house over my head if I stayed there. 

Chris. But did not you see the house that stood there, on the top of that hill on the 
side of which Moses met you ? 

Faith. Yes, and the lions too, before I came at it. But, for the lions, I think they 
were asleep, for it was about noon ; and because 1 had so much of the day before me, 
I passed by the Porter, and came down the hill. 

Chris. He told me, indeed, that he saw you go by ; but I wished you had called at 
the house, for they would have showed you so many rarities, that you would scarce 
have forgot them to the day of your death. But pray tell me, did you meet nobody 
in the Valley of Humility ? 

Faith. Yes, I met with one Discontent, who would willingly have persuaded me 

to go back again with him : his reason was, for that the valley was altogether without 

honor. He told me, moreover, that there to go was the way to disoblige all my 

friends, as Pride, Arrogancy, Self-Conceit, Worldly-Glory, with others, who he knew, 

as he said, would be very much offended if I made such a fool of myself as to wade 

through this valley. 

12 



90 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



Chris. Well, and how did you answer him? 

Faith. I told him that, although all these that he named might claim kindred of 
me, and that rightly (for, indeed, they were my relations according to the flesh), yet, 
since I became a pilgrim, they have disowned me, as I also have rejected them ; and 
therefore they were to me now no more than if they had never been of my lineage. I^ 
told him, moreover, that as to this valley, he had quite misrepresented the thing ; for 
before honor is humility, and a haughty spirit before a fall. "Therefore," said I, " I 
had rather go through this valley to the honor that was so accounted by the wisest, than 

choose that which he esteemed most worthy 
of our affections." 

Chris. Met you with nothing else in that 
valley? 

Faith. Yes, I met with Shame ; but, of all 
the men that I met with in my pilgrimage, he, 
I think, bears the wrong name. The other 
would be said nay, after a little argumentation 
and somewhat else ; but this bold-faced Shame 
would never have done. 

Chris. Why, what did he say to you ? 
Faith. What? why, he objected against 
religion itself. He said it was a pitiful, low, 
sneaking business for a man to mind religion. 
He said that a tender conscience was an 
unmanly thing; and that for a man to watch 
over his words and ways, so as to tie up him- 
self from that hectoring liberty that the brave 
sj^irits of the times accustom themselves unto, 
would make him the ridicule of the times. He objected also, that but a few of the 
mighty, rich, or wise were ever of my opinion ; nor any of them neither, before they 
were persuaded to be fools, and to be of a voluntary fondness, to venture tlie loss of all 
for nobody else knows what.'" ^-'' He, moreover, objected the base and low estate 
and condition of those that were chiefly the pilgrims of the times in which they lived ; 
also their ignorance, and want of understanding in all natural science. Yea, he did 
hold me to it at that rate also, about a great many more things than here I relate ; as, 
that it was a shame to sit whining and mourning under a sermon, and a" shame to come 
sighing and groaning home; that it was a shame to ask my neighbor forgiveness for 




Disconti'iit. 



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o 
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Q 
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92 THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 

petty faults, or to make restitution where I had taken from any. He said also that 
religion made a man grow strange to the great, because of a few vices (which he called 
by finer names), and made him own and respect the base, because of the same religious 
fraternity ; " and is not this," said he, " a shame ? " 

Chris. And what did you say to him ? 

Faith. Say ? I could not tell what to say at first. Yea, he put me so to it that my 
blood came up in my face ; even this Shame fetched it up, and had almost beat me 
quite off. But at last I began to consider that that which is highly esteemed among 
men is had in abomination with God.^^^ And I thought again, This Shame tells me 
what men are, but it tells me nothing what God, or the Word of God, is. And I 
thought, moreover, that at the day of doom we shall not be doomed to death or life 
according to the hectoring spirits of the world, but according to the wisdom and law 
of the Highest. Therefore, thought I, what God says is best — is best, though all the 
men in the world are against it. Seeing, then, that God prefers His religion ; seeing 
God prefers a tender conscience ; seeing they that make themselves fools for the king- 
dom of heaven are wisest, and that the poor man that loveth Christ is richer than the 
greatest man in the world that hates Him ; Shame, depart ! thou art an enemy to my 
salvation. Shall I entertain thee against my sovereign Lord ? how, then, shall I look 
Him in the face at His coming?'" Should I now be ashamed of His way and ser- 
vants, liow can I expect the blessing? But, indeed, this Shame was a bold villain : I 
could scarce shake him out of my company; yea, he would be haunting of me, and 
continually whispering me in the ear with some one or other of the infirmities that 
attend religion. But at last I told him it was but in vain to attempt further in this 
business ; for those things that he disdained, in those did I see most glory ; and so, at 
last, I got past this importunate one. And when I had shaken him off, then I began 
to sing, 

"Tlie trials that thcise men do nieet withal, 
Tliat are obedient to the heavenly call, 
I Are luanifokl, and suited to the flesh, 

And come, and come, and come again afresh : 
That now, or some time else, we by them may 
Be taken, overcome, and oast away. 
Oh, let the piljirims, let the pilgrims then. 
Be vigilant and quit themselves like men ! " 

Chris. I am glad, my brother, that thou didst withstand this villain so bravely : for 
of all, as thou sayest, I think he has the wrong name; for he is so bold as to follow us 
in the streets, and to attempt to put us to shame before all men ; that is, to make us 



TALKATIVE OVERTAKEN. 93 

ashamed of that which is good. But, if he was not himself audacious, he would never 
attempt to do as he does. But let us still resist him ; for, notwithstanding all his 
bravadoes, he promoteth the fool, and none else. " The wise shall inherit glory,"' said 
Solomon ; " but shame shall be the promotion of fools. "^^ 

Faith. I think we must cry to Him for help against Shame who would have us 
to be valiant for truth ujjon the earth. 

Chris. You say true. But did you meet nobody else in that valley ? 

Faith. No, not I ; for I had sunshine all the rest of the way through that, and also 
through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. 

Chris. It was well for you ! I am sure it fared far otherwise with me. I had for a 
long season, as soon almost as I entered into that valley, a dreadful combat with that 
foul fiend Apollyon ; yea, I thought verily he would have killed me, especially when 
he got me down, and crushed me under him, as if he would have crushed me to pieces. 
For, as he threw me, my sword flew out of my hand ; nay, he told me he was sure of 
me ; and I cried to God, and He heard me, and delivered me out of all my troubles. 
Then I entered into the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and had no light for almost 
half the way through it. I thought I should have been killed there over and over : 
but at last day broke, and the sun rose, and I went through that which was behind 
with far more ease and quiet. 

Moreover, I saw in my dream that, as they went on, Faithful, as he chanced to look 
on one side, saw a man whose name is Talkative walking at a distance beside them ; 
for in this place there was room enough for them all to walk. He was a tall man, and 
something more comely at a distance than at hand. To this man Faithful addressed 
himself in this manner : 

Faith. Friend, whither away ? Are you going to the heavenly country ? 

Talk. I am going to that same place. 

Faith. That is well ; then I hope we may have your good company. 

Talk. With a very good will will I be your companion. 

Faith. Come on, then, and let us go together, and let us spend our time in dis- 
coursing of things that are profitable. 

Talk. To talk of things that are good, to me is very acceptable, with you or with 
any other ; and I am glad that I have met with those that incline to so good a work ; 
for, to speak the truth, there are but few who care thus to spend their time as they are 
in their travels, but choose much rather to be speaking of things to no profit ; and this 
has been a trouble to me. 

Faith. That is, indeed, a thing to be lamented; for what things so worthy of the 



■94 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

use of the tongue and mouth of men on earth, as are the things of the God of 
heaven ? 

Talk. I like you wonderfully well, for your saying is full of conviction ; and I will 
add, AVhat thing is so pleasant, and what so jirofitable, as to talk of the things of God ? 
What things so pleasant? that is, if a man hath any delight in things that are wonder- 
ful. For instance, if a man doth delight to talk of the history or the mystery of things, 
or if a man doth love to talk of miracles, wonders, or signs, where shall he find things 
recorded so delightful, or so sweetly penned, as in the Holy Scripture ? 

Faith. That's true ; but to be profited by such things in our talk should be that 
which we design. 

Talk. That is it that I said ; for to talk of such things is most profitable ; for, by so 
"doing, a man may get knowledge of many things; as of the vanity of earthly things, 
and the benefit of things above. Thus in general ; but more particularly, by this a 
man may learn the necessity of the new birth, the insufficiency of our works, the need 
of Christ's righteousness, etc. Besides, by this a man may learn what it is to repent, 
to believe, to ]iray, to suffer, or the like ; by this, also, a man may learn what are the 
great promises and consolations of the Gospel, to his own comfort. Further, by this 
a man may learn to refute false opinions, to vindicate the truth, and also to instruct 
the ignorant. 

Faith. All this is true ; and glad am I to hear these things from you. 

Talk. Alas ! the want of this is the cause that so few understand the need of faith, 
and the necessity of a work of grace in their soul, in order to eternal life ; but igno- 
rautly live in the works of the law, by which a man can by no means obtain the king- 
dom of heaven. 

Faith. But, by your leave, heavenly knowledge of these is the gift of God ; no man 
attaineth to them by human industry, or only by the talk of them. 

Talk. All that I know very well, for a man can receive nothing except it be given 
him from heaven ; all is of grace, not of works.^ I could give you a hundred scriptures 
for the confirination of this. 

Faith. " Well, then," said Faithful, " what is that one thing that we shall at this 
time found our discourse upon ? " 

Talk. What you will. I will talk of things heavenly or things earthly ; things 
moral or things evangelical ; things sacred or things profane ; things past or things to 
come ; things foreign or things at home ; things more essential or things circumstan- 
•tial ; provided that all be done to our profit. 

Faith. Now did Faithful begin to wonder; and, stepping to Christian (for he 




' A luuu whose uhme is Talkative.' 



'95) 



96 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

walked all this while by himself), he said to him, but softly, " What a brave companion 
have we got ! Surely this man will make a very excellent pilgrim." 

Chris. At this Christian modestly smiled, and said, " This man with whom you are 
so taken will beguile with this tongue of his twenty of them that know him not." 

Faith. Do you know him, then ? 

Chris. Know him ? Yes, better than he knows himself. 

Faith. Pray what is he ? 

Chris. His name is Talkative ; he dwelleth in our town. I wonder that you should 
be a stranger to him : onlv I consider that our town is large. 

Faith. Whose son is he? and whereabout doth he dwell? 

Chris. He is the son of one Say-well. He dwelt in Prating Row, and is known to 
all that are acquainted with him by the name of Talkative of Prating Row ; and not- 
withstanding his fine tongue, he is but a sorr}^ fellow. 

Faith. Well, he seems to be a very pretty man. 

Chris. That is, to them that have not a thorough acquaintance with him, for he is 
best abroad ; near home he is ugly enough. Your saying that he is a pretty man 
brings to my mind what I have observed in the work of the painter, whose pictures 
show best at a distance, but very near more unpleasing.- 

Faith. But I am ready- to think you do but jest, because you smiled. 

Chris. God forbid that I should jest (though I smiled) in this matter, or that I 
should accuse any falsely. I will give you a further discovery of him. This man is 
for any company, and for any talk. As he talketh now with you, so will he talk when 
he is on the ale-bench ; and the more drink he hath in his crown, the more of these 
things he hath in his mouth. Religion hath no place in his heart, or house, or con- 
versation : all he hath lieth in his tongue, and his religion is to make a noise there- 
with. 

Faith. Say you so? Then am I in this man greatly deceived. 

Chris. Deceived ! you may be sure of it. Remember the proverb, " They say, and 
do not ; " but the kingdom of God is not in word, but in power.^-* He talketh of 
prayer, of repentance, of faith, and of the new birth ; but he knows but only to talk 
of them. I have been in his family, and have observed him both at home and abroad, 
and I know what I say of him is the truth. His house is as empty of religion as the 
white of an egg is of savor. Tliere is there neither prayer nor sign of repentance for 
sin ; yea, the brute, in his kind, serves God far better than he. He is the very stain, 
reproach, and shame of religion to all that know him.*-'^ It can hardly have a good 
word in all that end of the town where he dwells, through him. Thus say the com- 



TALKATIVE SELF-DECEIVED. . 97 

mon people that know liim : "A saint abroad, and a devil at home." His poor family- 
finds it so : her is such a churl, such a railer at, and so unreasonable with his servants, 
that they neither know how to do for or speak to him. iMcn tliat have any dealings 
with him say, it is better to deal with a Turk than with him, for fairer dealing, they 
shall have at their hands. This Talkative, if it be possible, will go beyond them, 
defraurl, beguile, and overreaeli tliem. Besides, he l)rings up his sons to follow his 
steps; and, if he lindeth in any of them a foolish timorousness (for so he calls the first 
appearance of a tender conscience), he calls them fools and blockheads, and by no 
means will employ them in nuich, or speak to their commendation before others. For 
my part, I am of ojiinion that he has, by his wicked life, caused many to stumble and 
fall, and will be, if God prevent not, the ruin of many more. 

Faith. Well, my brother, I am bound to believe you, not only because you say you 
know him, but also because like a Christian you make your reports of men. For I 
cannot think you speak these things of ill-will, but because it is even so as you say. 

Chris. Had I known him no more than you, I might, perhaps, have thought of him 
as at first you did ; yea, had he received this report at their hands only that are enemies 
to religion, I should have thought it had been a slander, a lot that often falls from bad 
men's mouths upon good men's names and professions. But all these things, yea, and 
a great many more as bad, of my own knowledge I can prove him guilty of. Besides, 
good men are ashamed of him : they can neither call him brother nor friend ; the very 
naming of him among them makes them blush, if they know him. 

Faith.. Well, I see that saying and doing are two things, and hereafter I shall 
better observe this distinction. 

Chris. They are two things, indeed, and are as diverse as are the soul and the 
body ; for, as the body without the soul is but a dead carcase, so saying, if it be alone, 
is but a dead carcase also. The soul of religion is the practical part. " Pure religion 
and undefiled before God and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless and the widows 
in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world." ^""^ This, Talkative 
is not aware of: he thinks that hearing and saying will make a good Christian, and 
thus he deceiveth his own soul. Hearing is but as the sowing of the seed ; talking is 
not sufficient to prove that fruit is indeed in the heart and life. And let us assure 
ourselves that, at the day of doom, men shall be judged according to their fruits.'^^ It 
will not be said then. Did you believe? but. Were you doers, or talkers only? and 
accordingly shall they be judged. The end of the world is compared to our harvest ;^''^ 
and you know men at harvest regard nothing but fruit. Not that anything can be 
accepted that is not of faith; but I speak this to show you how insignificant the pro- 
fession of Talkative will be at that day. 

13 



98 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Faith. This brings to my mind that of Moses, by which he described the beast that 
is clean.'^' He is such a one that parteth the hoof and cheweth tlie cud ; not tliat 
parteth the hoof only, or that cheweth the cud only. The hare cheweth the cud, but 
yet is unclean, because he parteth not the hoof And this truly resembleth Talkative : 
he cheweth the cud, he seeketh knowledge, he cheweth upon the Word ; but he divideth 
not the hoof, he parteth not with the way of sinners, but, as the hare, retaineth the 
foot of the dog or bear, and therefore he is unclean. 

Chris. You have spoken, for aught I know, the true Gospel sense of those texts. 
And I will add another thing : Paul calleth some men, yea, and those great talkers 
too, sounding brass and tinkling cymbals;"" that is, as he expounds them in another 
place, things without life, giving sound. Things without life; that is, without the true 
faith and grace of the Gospel, and, consequently, things that shall never be placed in 
the kingdom of heaven among those that are the children of life; though their sound, 
by their talk, be as if it were the tongue or voice of an angel. 

Faith. Well, I was not so fond of his company at first, but I am as sick of it now. 
What shall we do to be rid of him ? 

Chris. Take my advice, and do as I bid you, and you shall find that he will soon 
be sick of your company too, except God shall touch his heart and turn it. 

Faith. What would you have me to do ? 

Chris. Why, go to him, and enter into some serious discourse about the power of 
religion, and ask him plainly (when he has approved of it, for that he will) whether 
this thing be set up in his heart, house, or conversation. 

Faith. Then Faithful stepped forward again, and said to Talkative, " Come, what 
cheer ? How is it now ? " 

Talk. Thank you, well : I thought we should have had a great deal of talk by this 
time. 

Faith. Well, if you will, we will fall to it now ; and, since you left it with me to 
state the question, let it be this : How doth the saving grace of God discover itself 
when it is in the heart of man ? 

Talk. I perceive, then, that our talk must be about the power of things. Well, it 
is a very good question, and I shall be willing to answer you. And take my answer 
in brief, thus. First, where the grace of God is in the heart, it causeth there a great 
outcry against sin. Secondly, — 

Faith. Nay, hold ; let us consider of one at once. I think you should rather say, 
it shows itself by inclining the soul to abhor its sin. 

Talk. Why, what difference is there between crying out against and abhorring of sin? 



FAITHFUL DISPUTES WITH TALKATIVE. 99 

Faith. Oh ! a great deal. A man may cry out against sin of policy ; but he can- 
not abhor it but by virtue of a godly antipathy against it. I have heard many cry out 
against sin in tlie pulpit, who yet can abide it well enougli in the heart, house, and 
conversation. Joseph's mistress cried out with a loud voice, as if she had been very 
chaste ; but she would willingly, notwithstanding that, have committed uncleanness 
with him.^^' Some cry out against sin, even as the mother cries out against her child 
in her lap, when she calleth it slut and naughty girl, and then fells to hugging and 
kissing it. 

Talk. You lie at the catch, I perceive. * 

Faith. No, not I ; I am only for setting things right. But what is the second 
thing whereby you would prove a discovery of a work of grace in the heart? 

Talk. Great knowledge of Gospel mysteries. 

Faith. This sign should have been first ; but, first or last, it is also false ; for knowl- 
edge, great knowledge, may be obtained in the mysteries of the Gospel, and yet no work 
of grace in the soul. Yea, if a man have all knowledge, he' may yet be nothing, and 
so, consequently, be no child of God.^''" When Christ said, " Do ye know all these 
things ? " and the disciples had answered, " Yes," He added, " Blessed are ye if ye do 
them." He doth not lay the blessing in the knowledge of them, but in the doing of 
them. For there is a knowledge that is not attended with doing : " He that knoweth 
his master's will, and doeth it not." A man may know like an angel, and yet be no 
Christian ; therefore your sign of it is not true. Indeed, to know is a thing that 
pleaseth talkers and boasters ; but to do is that which pleaseth God. Not that the 
heart can be good without knowledge, for, without that, the heart is naught. There 
is, therefore, knowledge and knowledge : knowledge that resteth in the bare specula- 
tion of things, and knowledge that is accomjian.ied with the grace and faith of love, 
which puts a man upon doing even the will of God from the heart. The first of these 
will serve the talker ; but without the other the true Christian is not content. " Give me 
understanding, and I shall keep Thy law ; yea, I shall observe it with my whole heart." '^^ 

Talk. You lie at the catch again : this is not for edification. 

Faith. Well, if you jolease, propound another sign how this work of grace dis- 
covereth itself where it is. 

Talk. Not I ; for I see we shall not agree. 

Faith. Well, if you will not, will you give me leave to do it ? 

Talk. You may use your liberty. 

Faith. A work of grace in the soul discovereth itself either to him that hath it or 
to standers by. 



100 THE PILGRUrS PROGRESS. 

To liiin tliat hath it thus : It gives him conviction of sin, esjieciallj' of the defile- 
ment of his nature and the sin of unbelief; for the sake of which he is sure to be 
damned, if he findeth not mercy at God's hand by faith in Jesus Christ. This sight 
and sense of things worketh in him sorrow and shame for sin.'" He findeth, more- 
over, revealed in him the Saviour of the world, and the absolute necessity of closing 
with Him for life; at the which he findeth hungerings and thirstings after Him ; to 
which hungerings, etc., the promise is made. Now, according to the strength or weak- 
ness of his faith in his Saviour, so are his joy and peace, so is his love to holiness, so 
are his desires to know Him more, and also to serve Him in this world. But, though 
I say it discovereth itself thus unto him, yet it is but seldom that he is able to conclude 
that this is a work of grace ; because his corruptions now, and his abused reason, make 
his mind to misjudge in this matter: therefore in him that hath this work there is 
required a very sound judgment, before he can with steadiness conclude that this is a 
work of grace.^^ 

To others it is thus discovered : 

1. By an experimental confession of his faith in Christ. 2. By a life answerable to 
that confession ; to wit, a life of holiness — heart holiness, family holiness (if he hath a 
family), and by conversation holiness in the world; which in the general teacheth him 
inwardly to abhor his sin, and himself for that, in secret ; to suppress it in his family, 
and to promote holiness in the world ; not by talk only, as a hypocrite or talkative 
person may do, but by a practical subjection in faith and love to the power of the 
Word."*^ And now, sir, as to this brief description of the work of grace, and also the 
discovery of it, if you have aught to object, object ; if not, then give me leave to pro- 
pound to you a second question. 

Talk. Nay, my part is not now to object, but to hear ; let me, therefore, have your 
second question. 

Faith. It is this : Do you experience the first part of this description of it ? And 
do your life aind conversation testify the same ? Or standeth your religion in word or 
in tongue, and not in deed and in truth ? Pray, if you incline to answer me in this, 
say no more than you know the God above will say Amen to, and also nothing but what 
your conscience can justify you in ; for not he that commendeth himself is approved, 
but whom the Lord commendeth. Besides, to say I am thus and thus, when my con- 
versation and all my neighbors tell me I lie, is great wickedness. 

Talk. Then Talkative at first began to blush ; but, recovering himself, thus he 
replied ; " You come now to experience, to conscience, and God ; and to appeal to Him 
for justification of what is spoken. This kind of discourse I did not expect ; nor am 



TALKATIVE PARTS COMPANY. 101 

I disposed to give an answer to such questions, because I count not myself bound 
thereto, unless you take upon you to be a catechizer ; and though you should do so, 
yet I may refuse to make you my judge. But, I pray, will you tell me w4iy you ask 
me such questions ? " 

Faith. Because I saw you forward to talk, and because I knew not that you had 
aught else but notion. Besides, to tell you all the truth, I have heard of you that you 
are a man whose religion lies in talk, and that your conversation gives this your mouth- 
profession the lie. They say you are a spot among Christians, and that religion fareth 
the worse for your ungodly conversation ; that some already have stumbled at your 
wicked ways, and that more are in danger of being destroyed thereby : your religion, 
and an alehouse, and covetousness, and uncleanness, and swearing, and lying, and vain 
company-keeping, etc., will stand together. The proverb is true of you which is said 
of a whore ; to wit, that " she is a shame to all women ; " so you are a shame to all 
professors. 

Talk. Since you are ready to take up reports, and to judge so rashly as you do, I 
cannot but conclude you are some peevish or melancholy man, not fit to be discoursed 
with ; and so adieu. 

Chris. Then came up Christian, and said to his brother, " I told you how it would 
happen ; your words and his lusts could not agree. He had rather leave your company 
than reform his life. But he is gone, as I said : let him go ; the loss is no man's but 
his own : he has saved us the trouble of going from him ; for he continuing (as I sup- 
pose he will do) as he is, he would have been but a blot in our company. Besides, the 
Apostle says, ' From such withdraw thyself " 

Faith. But I am glad we had this little discourse with him ; it may happen that he 
Tvill think of it again : however, I have dealt plainly with him, and so am clear of his 
blood, if he perisheth. 

Cheis. You did well to talk so ])lainly to him as you did. There is but little of this 
faithful dealing with men now-a-days ; and that makes religion to stink so in the 
nostrils of many as it doth ; for they are these talkative fools, whose religion is only in 
-word, and are debauched and vain in their conversation, that, being so much admitted 
into the fellowship of the godly, do puzzle the world, blemish Christianity, and grieve 
the sincere. I wish that all men would deal with such as you have done ; then should 
they either be made more comformable to religion, or the company of saints would be 
too hot for them. 

Faith. Then did Faithful say, 



102 THE PILGRBrS PROGRESS. 

" How Talkative at first lifts up his plumes ! 
How bravely doth he speak ! How he presumes 
To Jrive down all before him ! But so soon 
As Faithful talks of heart-work, like the moon 
That's past the full, into the wane lie goes ; 
And so will all but he who heart- work knows." 

Thus they went on, talking of what they had seen by the way, and so made that 
way easy, which would otherwise, no doubt, have been tedious to them ; for now they 
went through a wilderness. 




CHAPTER VI. 

OW, when they were got almost quite out of this wilderness, Faithful chanced 
to cast his eye back, and espied one coming after him, and he knew him. 

^ " Oh ! " said Faithful to his brother, " who comes yonder ? " Then Christian 
looked, and said, " It is ray good friend Evangelist." " Ay, and my good 
friend too," said Faithful ; " for it was he that set me the way to the gate." Now was 
Evangelist come up unto them, and thus saluted them : 

EvAX. Peace be with you, dearly beloved, and peace be to your helpers. 

Chris. Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist : the sight of thy countenance 
brings to my remembrance thy ancient kindness and unwearied laboring for my 
eternal good. 

Faith. " And a thousand times welcome," said good Faithful : " thy company, O 
sweet Evangelist, how desirable is it to us poor pilgrims ! " 

Evan. Then said Evangelist, " How hath it fared with you, my friends, since the 
time of our last parting ? What have you met with, and how have you behaved 
yourselves ? " ' 

Then Christian and Faithful told him of all things that had hajjpened to them in 
the way ; and how, and with what difficulty, they had arrived to that place. 

Evan. " Right glad am I," said Evangelist, " not that you met with trials, but that 
you have been victors, and for that you have, notwithstanding many weaknesses, con- 
tinued in the way to this very day. I say, right glad am I of this thing, and that for 
my own sake and yours. I have sowed, and you have reaped ; and the day is coming 
when ' both he that sowed and they that reaped shall rejoice together ; ' ™ that is, if 
you hold out; ' for in due season you shall reap, if you feint not.'^^ The crown is 



EVANGELIST EXHORTS CHRISTIAN. 103 

before you, and it is an uncorruptible one : so run that you mrfy obtain it/''" Some 
there be that set out for this crown, and after they have gone far for it, another comes 
in and takes it from them : ' Hold fast, therefore, that you have ; let no man take your 
crown.' ^^ You are not yet out of the gunshot of the devil ; you have not yet ' resisted 
unto blood, striving against sin.' Let the kingdom be always before you, and believe 
steadfastly concerning things that are invisible. Let nothing that is on this side the 
other world get within you. And, above all, look well to your own hearts, and to the 
lusts thereof; for they are ' deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked.' Set 
your faces like a flint: you have all power in heaven and earth on your side." 

Then Christian thanked him for his exhortation, but told him withal that they 
woukl have him siieak further to them, for their help the rest of the way ; and the 
rather, for that tliey well knew that he was a prophet, and could tell them of things 
that might happen unto them, and also how they might resist and overcome them. To 
which request Faithful also consented. So Evangelist began as followeth : 

Evan. My sons, you have heard, in the words of the truth of the Gospel, that you 
must " through many tribulations enter into the kingdom of heaven ; " and again, that 
" in every city bonds and afflictions await you ; " and therefore you cannot expect that 
you should go long on your pilgrimage without them in some sort or other. You have 
found something of the truth of these testimonies upon you already, and more will 
immediately follow ; for now, as you see, you are almost out of this wilderness, and 
therefore you will soon come into a town that you will by-and-by .see before you ; and 
in that town you will be hardly beset with enemies, who will strain hard but they will 
kill you ; and be you sure that one or both of jou must seal the testimony which you 
hold with blood : but be you faithful unto death, and the King will give you a crown 
of life. He that shall die there, although his death will be unnatural, and his pain, 
perhaps, great, he will yet have the better of his fellow ; not only because he will be 
arrived at the Celestial City soonest, but because he will escape many miseries that the 
other will meet with in the rest of his journey. But wlien you are come to the town, 
and shall find fulfilled what I have here related, then remember your friend, and quit 
yourselves like men, and commit the keeping of your souls to God in well-doing, as 
unto a faithful Creator. 

Then I saw in my dream, that, when they were got out of the wilderness, they 
presently saw a town before them, and the name of that town is Vanity ; and at the 
town there is a fair kept, called Vanity Fair. It is kept all the year long. It beareth 
the name of Vanity Fair, because the town where it is kept is lighter than vanity, and 



THE PILGRIMS REACH THE TOWN OF VANITY. 105 

also because all that is there sold, or that cometh thither, is vanity ; as is the saying of 
the Wise, " All that cometh is vanity." '" 

This fair is no new-erectctl business, but a thing of ancient standing. I will show 
you the original of it. 

Almost five thousand years ago, there were pilgrims walking to the Celestial City, 
as these two honest persons are; and Beelzebub, Apollyon, and Legion, with their 
companions, perceiving by the path that the pilgrims made that their way to the city 
lay through this town of Vanity, they contrived here to set up a fair ; a fair wherein 
should be sold all sorts of vanity, and that it should last all the year long. Therefore 
at this fair are all such merchandise sold as houses, lands, trades, places, honors, pre- 
ferments, titles, countries, kingdoms, lusts, pleasures, and delights of all sorts, as whores, 
bawds, wives, husbands, children, masters, servants, lives, blood, bodies, souls, silver, 
gold, jjearls, precious stones, and what not. 

And, moreover, at this fair thei-e are at all times to be seen jugglings, cheats, games, 
plays, fools, ajies, knaves, and rogues, and that of every kind. 

Here are to be seen, too, and that for nothing, thefts, murders, adulteries, false 
swearers, and that of a blood-red color. 

And, as in other fairs of less moment there are several rows and streets under their 
[)ro23er names, where such and such wares are vended ; so here likewise you have the 
proper places, rows, streets (namely, countries and kingdoms), where the wares of this 
fair are soonest to be found. Here are the Britain Row, the French Row, the Italian 
Row, the Spanish Row, the German Row, where several sorts of vanities are to be 
sold. But, as in other fairs some one commodity is as the chief of all the fair, so the 
ware of Rome and her merchandise are greatly promoted in this fair ; only our English 
nation, with some others, have taken dislike thereat. 

Now, as I said, the way to the Celestial City lies just through this town where this 
lusty fair is kept ; and he that would go to the city, and yet not go through this town, 
" must needs go out of the world." "" The Prince of princes Himself, when here, went 
through this town to His own country, and that upon a fair day too ; yea, and as I 
think, it was Beelzebub, the chief lord of this fair, that invited Him to buy of his 
vanities ; yea, would have made Him lord of the fair, would He but have done Him 
reverence as He went through the town. Yea, because He was such a person of honor, 
Beelzebub had Him from street to street, and showed Him all the kingdoms of the 
world in a little time, that he might, if possible, allure that Blessed One to cheapen 
and buy some of his vanities ; but He had no mind to the merchandise, and therefore 

14 



106 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

left the town without hiying out so much as one farthing upon these vanities."'' This 
fair, therefore, is an ancient thing of long-standing, and a very great fair. 

Now, these pilgrims, as I said, must needs go through this fair. Well, so they did ; 
but, behold, even as they entered into the fair, all the people in the fair were moved 
and the town itself, as it were, in a hubbub about them, and that for several reasons ; 
for, 

First, — The pilgrims were clothed with such kind of raiment as was diverse from 
the raiment of any that traded in that fair. The people, therefore, of the fair, made a 
great gazing upon them : some said they were fools ; some, they were bedlams ; and 
some, they were outlandish men."'' 

Secondly, — And, as they wondered at their apparel, so they did likewise at their 
speech ; for few could understand what they said. They naturally spoke the language 
of Canaan ; but they that kept the fair were the men of this world. So that from one 
end of the fair to the other, they seemed barbarians eacli to the other. 

Thirdly, — But that which did not a little amuse the merchandisers was, that these 
pilgrims set very light by all their wares. They cared not so much as to look upon 
them ; and if they called upon them to buy, they would put their fingers in their ears, 
and cry, " Turn away mine eyes from beholding vanity," "'' and look upwards, signify- 
ing that their trade and traffic were in heaven."'' 

One chanced, mockingly, beholding the carriage of the men, to say unto them, 
" What will you buy ? " But they, looking gravely upon him, said, " We buy the 
truth." '" At that there was an occasion taken to despise the men the more ; some 
mocking, some taunting, some speaking reproachfully, and some calling on others to 
smite them. At last things came to a hubbub and great stir in the fair, insomuch 
that all order was confounded. Now was word presently brought to the great one of 
the fair, who quickly came down, and deputed some of his most trusty friends to take 
these men into, examination about whom the fair was almost overturned. So the men 
were brought to examination ; and they that sat upon them asked them whence they 
came, whither they went, and what they did there in such an unusual garb. The men 
told them that they were pilgrims and strangers in the world, and that they were going 
to their own country, which was the heavenly Jerusalem,"* and that they had given 
no occasion to the men of the town, nor yet to the merchandisers, thus to abuse them, 
and to let them in their journey, except it was for that, when one asked them what 
they would buy, they said they would buy the truth. But they that were appointed 
to examine them did not believe them to be any other than bedlams and mad, or else 
such as came to put all things into a confusion in the fair. Therefore they took them 



THE PILGRIMS AT VANITY FAIR. 107 

and beat them, and besmeared them with dirt, and then put them into the cage, that 
they might be made a spectacle to all the men of the fair. There, therefore, they lay 
for some time, and were made the objects of any man's sport, or malice, or revenge ; 
the great one of the fair laughing still at all that befell them. But, the men being 
patient, and " not rendering railing for railing, but contrariwise blessing," and giving 
good words for bad, and kindness for injuries done, some men in the fair that were 
more observing and less prejudiced than the rest, began to check and blame the baser 
sort for their continual abuses done by them to the men. They, therefore, in an 
angry manner, let fly at them again, counting them as bad as the men in the cage, and 
telling them that they seemed confederates, and should be made partakers of their 
misfortunes. The others replied, that, for aught they could see, the men were quiet and 
sober, and intended nobody any harm; and that there were many that traded in their 
fair that were more worthy to be put into the cage, yea, and pillory too, than were the 
men that they had abused. Thus, after divers words had passed on both sides (the 
men behaving themselves all the while very wisely and soberly before them), they fell 
to some blows, and did harm to one another. Then were these two poor men brought 
before their examiners again, and there charged as being guilty of the late hubbub 
that had been in the fair. So they beat them pitifully, and hanged irons upon them, 
and led them in chains up and down the fair, for an example and terror to others, lest 
any should speak in theii: behalf, or join themselves unto them. But Christian and 
Faithful behaved themselves yet more wisely, and received the ignominy and shame 
that were cast upon them with so much meekness and patience, that it won to their 
side (though but few in comparison of the rest) several of the men in the fair. This 
put the other party in yet a greater rage, insomuch that they concluded the death of 
these two men. Wherefore they threatened that neither cage nor irons should serve 
their turn, but that they should die for the abuse they had done, and for deluding the 
men of the fair. 

Then were they remanded to the cage again, until further order should be taken with 
them. So they put them in, and made their feet fast in the stocks. 

Here, therefore, they called again to mind what they had heard from their faithful 
friend Evangelist, and were more confirmed in their way and sufferings, by what he 
told them would happen to them. They also now comforted each other, that whose 
lot it was to suffer, even he should have the best of it ; therefore each man secretly 
wished he might have that preferment. But, committing themselves to the all-wise 
disposal of Him that ruleth all things, with much content they abode in the condition 
in which they were, until they should be otherwise disposed of. 



108 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Then a convenient time being appointed, they brought them forth to tlieir trial, in 
order to their condemnation. When the time was come, they were brought before 
tlieir enemies, and arraigned. The judge's name was Lord Hate-good : their indict- 
ment was one and the same in substance, though somewhat varying in form ; the 
contents whereof were this: "That they were enemies to and disturbers of their trade; 
that they had made commotions and divisions in the town, and had won a party to 
their own most dangerous opinions, in contempt of the law of their prince." 

Then Faithful began to answer, that he had only set himself against that which had 
set itself against Him that is higher than the highest. "And," said he, " as for dis- 
turbance, I make none, being myself a man of (leace ; the parties that were won to us, 
were won by beholding our truth and innocence, and they are only turned from the 
worse to the better. And, as to the king you talk of, since he is Beelzebub, the enemy 
of our Lord, I defy him and all his angels." 

Then proclamation was made, that they that had aught to say for their lord the king 
against the prisoner at the bar should forthwith apj:)ear and give in their evidence. So 
there came in three witnesses ; to wit. Envy, Suj^erstition, and Pickthank. They were 
then asked if they knew the prisoner at the bar, and what they had to say for their 
lord the king against him. 

Then stood forth Envy, and said to this effect : " My lord, I have known this Tuan 
a long time, and will attest upon my oath before this honorable bench that he is — " 

Judge. Hold ! Give him his oath. 

ExvY. So they sware him. Then said he, " My lord, this man, notwithstanding his 
plausible name, is one of the vilest men in our country. He neither regardcth prince 
nor people, law nor custom, but doth all that he can to possess all men with certain of 
his disloyal notions, which he in the general calls principles of faith and holiness. And 
in particular, I heard him once myself affirm that Christianity and the customs of our 
town of Vanity were diametrically opposite, and could not be reconciled. By which 
saying, my lord, he doth at once not only condemn all our laudable doings, but us in 
the doing of them." 

Judge. Then did the judge say to him, " Hast thou any more to say?" 

Envy. My lord, I could say much more, only I would not be tedious to the court. 
Yet, if need be, when the other gentlemen have given in their evidence, rather than 
anything shall be wanting that will dispatch him, I will enlarge my testimony against 
him. So he was bid stand by. 

Then they called Superstition, and bade him look upon the prisoner. They also 




Lord Hate-goop. 



(109; 



no THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 

asked what he could say for their lord the king against him. Then they sware hira : 
so he began : 

Super. My lord, I have no great acquaintance with this man, nor do I desire to 
have further knowledge of him. However, this I know, that he is a very pestilent 
fellow, from some discourse the other day that I had with him in this town ; for then, 
talking with him, I heard him say that our religion was naught, and such by which a 
man could by no means please God. Which saying of his, my lord, your lordship very 
well knows what necessarily thence will follow ; to wit, that we still do worship in 
vain, are yet in our sins, and finally shall be damned : and this is that which I have 
to say. 

Then was Pickthank sworn, and bid say what he knew, in behalf of their lord the 
king, against the prisoner at the bar. 

Pick. My loixl, and you gentlemen all, this fellow I have known a long time, and 
have heard him speak things that ought not to be spoken, for he hath railed on our 
noble Prince Beelzebub, and hath spoken contcra])tuously of his honorable friends, 
whose names are, the Lord Old-man, the Lord Carnal-Delight, the Lord Luxurious, 
the Lord Desire-of- Vain-Glory, my old Lord Lechery, Sir Having Greedy, with all 
the rest of our nobility ; and he hath said, moreover, that, if all men were of his mind, 
if possible there is not one of these noblemen should have any longer a being in this 
town. Besides, he has not been afraid to rail on you, my lord, who are now appointed 
to be his judge, calling you an ungodly villain, with many other such-like vilifying 
terms, with which he hath bespattered most of the gentry of our town. 

Judge. When this Pickthank had told his tale, the judge directed his speech to the 
prisoner at the bar, saying, " Thou runagate, heretic, and traitor ! hast thou heard what 
these honest gentlemen have witnessed against thee ? " 

Faith. May I speak a few words in my own defense ? 

Judge. Sirrah, sirrah, thou deservest to live no longer, but to be slain immediately 
upon the place ; yet, that all men may see our gentleness towards thee, let us hear 
what thou, vile runagate, hast to say. 

Faith. 1. I say, then, in answer to what Mr. Envy hath spoken, I have never said 
aught but this, that what rule, or laws, or custom, or people were flat against the 
Word of God, are diametrically opposite to Christianity. Tf I have said amiss in this, 
convince me of my error, and I am ready here before you to make my recantation. 

2. As to the second, to wit, Mr. Superstition and his charge against me, I said only 
this, that in the worship of God there is required a divine faith. But there can be no 
divine faith without a divine revelation of the will of God. Therefore, whatever is 





Envy. 



SupL'rstitiou. 




Pickthank. 

Three Witnesses. 



{Ill) 



112 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

thrust into the worship of God that is not agreeable to divine revelation, cannot be 
done but by a human faith, which faith will not profit to eternal life. 

3. As to what Mr. Pickthank hath said, I say (avoiding terms, as that I am said to 
rail, and the like), that the prince of this town, Avith all the rabblement his attendants, 
by this gentleman named, are more fit for a being in hell than in this town and country. 
And so the Lord have mercy upon me ! 

Then the judge called to the jury (who all this while stood by to hear and observe), 
" Gentlemen of the jury, you see this man about whom so great an uproar hath been 
made in this town ; you have also heard what these worthy gentlemen have witnessed 
against him ; also you have heard his reply and confession. It lieth now in your 
breast to hang him or to save his life ; but yet I think meet to instruct you into our 
law. 

" There was an act made in the days of Pharaoh, the great servant to our prince, 
that, lest those of a contrary religion should multiply and grow too strong for him, their 
males should be thrown into the river."" There was also an act made in the days of 
Nebuchadnezzar the Great, another of his servants, that whoever would not fall down 
and worship his golden image should be thrown into a fiery furnace.'*" There was 
also an act made in the days of Darius, that whoso for some time called upon any god 
but him should be cast into the lions' den.''^' Now, the substance of these laws this rebel 
has broken, not only in thought (which is not to be borne), but also in word and deed, 
which must, therefore, needs be intolerable. 

" For that of Pharaoh, his law was made upon a supposition, to prevent mischief, no 
crime being yet apparent ; but here is a crime apparent. For the second and third, 
you see he disputeth against our religion ; and for the reason that he hath confessed he 
deserveth to die the death." 

Then went the jury out, whose names were Mr. Blind-man, Mr. No-good, Mr. Malice, 
Mr. Love-lust, Mr. Live-loose, Mr. Heady, Mr. High-mind, Mr. Enmity, Mr. Liar, 
Mr. Cruelty, Mr. Hate-light, and Mr. Implacable, who every one gave in his private 
verdict agaiiist him among themselves, and afterwards unanimously concluded to bring 
him in guilty before the Judge. And first among themselves, Mr. Blind-man, the 
foreman, said, " I see clearly that this man is a heretic." Then said Mr. No-good, 
"Away with such a fellow from the earth!" "Ay," said Mr. Malice, "for I 
hate the very look of him." Then said Mr. Love-lust, "I could never endure him." 
" Nor I," said Mr. Live-loose ; " for he would always be condemning my way." 
" Hang him, hang him !" said Mr. Heady. "A sorry scrub," said Mr. High-mind. 
" My heart riseth against him," said Mr. Enmity. " He is a rogue," said JMr. Liar. 






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THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 



" Hanging is too good for him," said Mr.' Cruelty. " Let us dispatch liim out of the 
way," said Mr. Hate-light. Then said Mr. Implacable, "Might I have all the world 

given to me, I could not be reconciled to him ; 
therefore let us forthwith bring him in guilty 
of death." 

And so they did : therefore he was pres- 
ently condemned to be had from the place 
where he was, to the place from whence he 
came, and there to be put to the most cruel 
death that could be invented. 

Tliey therefore brought him out, to do with 
him according to their law ; and first they 
scourged him, then they buffeted him, then 
they lanced his flesh with knives ; after that 
they stoned him with stones, then pricked 
him with their swords, and, last of all, they 
burned him to ashes at the stake. Thus came 
Faithful to his end. 

Now, I saw that there stood behind the 
multitude a chariot and a couple of horses 
waiting for Faithful, who (so soon as his ad- 
versaries had dispatched him) was taken up into it, and straightway was carried up 
through the clouds with sound of trumpet the nearest way to the Celestial Gate. 
But as for Christian, he had some respite, and was remanded back to prison ; so he 
there remained for a space. But He who overrules all things, having the power of 
their rage in his own hand, so wrought it about that Christian for that time escaped 
them, and went his way. And as he went, he sang, saying, 




'Tbev burned Iiim to aslu'S ;it the stake. 



" Well, Faithful, thou hast faithfully professed 
Unto thy Lord, with whom thou shalt be blest. 
When faithless ones, with all their vain delights, 
Are crying out under their hellish plights. 
Sing, Faithful, sing, and let thy name survive ; 
For, thougli they killed thee, thou art yet alive." 



HOPEFUL JOINS CHRISTIAN. 115 




CHAPTER VI I. 

OW, I saw in my dream, that Christian went forth not alone ; for there was one 
whose name was Hopeful (being so made by the beholding of Christian and 

^ Faithful in their words and behavior in their sufferings at the fair), who 
joined himself unto him, and, entering into a brotherly covenant, told him that 
he would be his companion. Thus one died to bear testimony to the truth, and another 
rises out of his ashes to be a companion with Christian in his pilgrimage. This 
Hopeful also told Christian that there were many more of the men in the fair that 
would take their time and follow after. 

So I saw that, quickly after they were got out of the fair, they overtook one that 
was going before them, whose name was By-ends ; so they said to him, " What country- 
man, sir ? and how far go you this way ? " He told them that he came from the town 
of Fair-speech, and he was going to the Celestial City ; but told them not his name. 

Chris, '* From Fair-speech ! " said Christian : " are there any that be good live 
there ?"i^^ 

By. " Yes," said By-ends, " I hope." 

Chris. Pray, sir, what may I call you ? 

By. I am a stranger to you, and you to me : if you be going this way, I shall be 
glad of your company ; if not, I must be content. 

Chris. This town of Fair-speech, I have heard of it ; and, as I remember, they say 
it's a wealthy place. 

By. Yes, I will assure you that it is ; and I have very many rich kindred there. 

Chris. Pray, who are your kindred there ? if a man may be so bold. 

By. Almost the whole town ; but in particular my Lord Turnabout, my Lord Time- 
server, my Lord Fair-speech, from Avhose ancestors that town first took its name ; also 
Mr. Smooth-man, Mr. Facing-both-ways, Mr. Anything; and the parson of our parish, 
Mr. Two-tongues, was my mother's own brother by father's side ; and to tell you the 
truth, I am become a gentleman of good quality ; yet my great-grandfather was but a 
waterman, looking one way and rowing another, and I got most of my estate by the 
same occupation. 

Chris. Are you a married man ? 

By. Yes, and my wife is a very virtuous woman, the daughter of a virtuous woman ; 




HopEFUi^ AND Christian 

'There was one whose name was Hopeful, who joined himself unto him." 



(116) 



BY-ENDS, OF FAIR-SPEECH. 117 

she was my Lady Feigning's daughter : therefore she came of a very honorable 
family, and is arrived to such a pitch of breeding, that she knows how to carry it to 
all, even to prince and peasant. 'Tis true we somewhat differ in religion from those 
of the stricter sort, yet but in two small points : First, we never strive against wind 
and tide ; secondly, we are always most zealous when Religion goes in his silver 
slippers : we love much to walk with him in the street if the sun shines and the people 
applaud him. 

Then Christian ste2:)ped a little aside to his fellow Hopeful, saying, " It runs in my 
mind that this is one By-ends, of Fair-speech ; and if it be he, we have as very a knave 
in our company as dwelleth in all these parts." Then said Hopeful, " Ask him;- 
methinks he should not be ashamed of his name." So Christian came up with him 
again, and said, " Sir, you talk as if you knew something more than all the world doth ; 
and if I take not my mark amiss, I deem I have half a guess of you. Is not your 
name Mr. By-ends, of Fair-speech ? " 

By. This is not my name ; but, indeed, it is a nickname that is given me by some 
that cannot abide me, and I must be content to bear it as a reproach, as other good 
men have borne theirs before me. 

Chris. But did you never give an occasion to men to call you by this name ? 

By. Never, never! The worst that ever I did to give them an occasion to give me 
this name was, that I had always the luck to jump in my judgment with the present 
way of the times, whatever it was, and my chance was to get thereby. But if things 
are thus cast upon me, let me count them a blessing ; but let not the malicious load 
me therefore with reproach. 

Chris. I thought, indeed, that you were the man that I heard of; and, to tell you 
what I think, I fear this name belongs to you more properly than you are willing we 
should think it doth. 

By. Well, if you will thus imagine, I cannot help it : you shall find me a fair com- 
pany-keeper if you still admit me your associate. 

Chris. If you will go with us, you must go against wind and tide ; the which, I 
perceive, is against your opinion : you must also own Religion in his rags, as well as 
when in his silver sli2:)pers ; and stand by him, too, when bound in irons, as well as 
when he walketh the streets with apjilause. 

By. You must not impose or lord it over my faith ; leave it to my liberty, and let 
me go with you. 

Chris. Not a step farther, unless you will do in what I propound as we. 

By. Then said By-ends, " I will never desert my old principles, since they are 



118 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

harmless and profitable. If I may not go with you, I must do as I did before you 
overtook me, even go by myself, until some overtake me that will be glad of my 
company." 

Now, I saw in my dream that Christian and Hopeful forsook him, and kept their 
distance before him ; but one of them, looking back, saw three men following Mr. By- 
ends ; and, behold, as they came uji with him, he made them a very low conge, and 
they also gave him a compliment. The men's names were Mr. Hold-the-world, Mr. 
Money-love, and Mr. Save-all ; men that Mr. By-ends had been formerly acquainted 
with ; for in their minority they were schoolfellows, and taught by one Mr. Gripe-man, 
a schoolmaster in Love-gain, which is a market town in the county of Coveting, in 
the North. This schoolmaster taught them the art of getting, either by violence, 
cozenage, flattery, lyings or by putting on a guise of religion ; and these four gentlemen 
had attained much of the art of their inaster, so that they could each of them have kept 
such a school themselves. 

Well, when they had, as I said, thus saluted each other, Mr. Money-love said to Mr. 
By-ends, " Who are they upon the road before us ? " for Christian and Hopeful were 
yet within view. 

By. They are a couple of far countrymen, that, after their mode, are going on 

pilgrimage. 

MoxEY. Alas ! why did they not stay, that we might have had their good company ? 
for they, and we, and you, sir, I hope, are all going on pilgrimage. 

By. We are so, indeed ; but the men before us are so rigid, and love so much their 
own notions, and do also so lightly esteem the opinions of others, that, let a man be 
ever so godly, yet, if he jumps not with them in all things, they thrust him quite out 
of their company. 

Save. That is bad ; but we read of some that are righteous overmuch, and such 
men's rigidness prevails with them to judge and condemn all but themselves. But, I 
pray, what and how many were the things wherein you differed ? 

By. Why, they, after their headstrong manner, conclude that it is their duty to rush 
on their journey all weathers; and I am for waiting for wind and tide. They are for 
hazarding all for God at a clap ; and I am for taking all advantages to secure my life 
and estate. They are for holding their notions, though all other men be against them ; 
but I am for religion in what, and so far as, the times and my safety will bear it. 
They are for Religion when in rags and contemjit ; but I am for him when he walks 
in his golden slippers, in the sunshine, and with applause. 

Hold. Ay, and hold you there still, good Mr. By-ends ; for, for my part, I can 



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120 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

count him but a fool, that, having the liberty to keep what he has, shall be so unwise 
as to lose it. Let us be wise as serpents. It is best to make hay while the sun shines. 
You see how the bee lieth still all winter, and bestirs her only when she can have 
profit and pleasure. God sends, sometimes rain and sometimes sunshine ; if they be 
such fools to go through the first, yet let us be content to take fair weather along with 
us. For my part, I like that religion best that will stand with the security of God's 
good blessings unto us ; for who can imagine, that is ruled by his reason, since God has 
bestowed upon us the good things of this life, but that He would have us keep them 
for His sake ? Abraham and Solomon grew rich in religion ; and Job says that " a 
good man should lay up gold as dust ;" but he must not be such as the men before us, 
if they be as you have described them. 

Save. I think that we are all agreed in this matter, and therefore there needs no 
more words about it. 

_ Money. No, there needs no more words about this matter, indeed ; for he that 
believes neither Scripture nor reason (and you see we have both on our side), 
neither knows his own liberty nor seeks his own safety. 

By. My brethren, we are, as you see, going all on pilgrimage ; and for our better 
diversion from things that are bad, give me leave to propound unto you this question : 

Suppose a man, a minister, or a tradesman, etc., should have an advantage lie before 
him to get the good blessings of this life, yet so as that he can by no means come by 
them except, in appearance at least, he becomes extraordinarily zealous in some points 
of religion that he meddled not with before ; may he not use this means to attain his 
end, and yet be a riglit honest man ? 

Money. I see the bottom of your question, and, with these gentlemen's good leave, 
I will endeavor to shape you an answer. And first, to speak to your question as it 
concerns a minister himself: suppose a minister, a worthy man, possessed of but a 
very small benefice, and has in his eye a greater, more fat and plump by far, he has 
also now an opportunity of getting it, yet so as by being more studious, by preaching 
more frequently and zealously, and, because the temper of the people requires it, by 
altering of some of his principles ; for my part, I see no reason why a man may not do 
this, provided he has a call, ay, and more a great deal besides, and yet be an honest 
man. For why ? 

1. His desire of a greater benefice is lawful : this cannot be contradicted, since it is 
set before him by Providence; so then he may get it if he can, making no question 
for conscience sake. 

2. Besides, his desire after that benefice makes him more studious, a more zealous 



MONEY-LOVE'S PRINCIPLES. 121 

preacher, etc., and so makes him a better man ; yea, makes him better improve his 
parts, which is according to the mind of God. 

3. Now, as for his complying with the temper of his people, by deserting, to serve 
them, some of his principles, this argueth, first, that he is of a self-denying temper ; 
secondly, of a sweet and winning deportment ; and, thirdly, so more fit for the minis- 
terial function. 

4. I conclude, then, that a minister that changes a small for a great, should not, for 
so doing, be judged as covetous; but rather, since he has improved in his parts and 
industry thereby, be counted as one that pursues his call, and the opportunity put into 
his hands to do good. 

And now to the second part of the question, which concerns the tradesman you 
mentioned. Suppose such a one to have but a poor employ in the world, but by be- 
coming religious he may mend his market, perhaps get a rich wife, or more and far 
better customers to his shop ; for my part, I see no reason but this may be lawfully 
done. For why ? 

1. To become religious is a virtue, by what means soever a man becomes so. 

2. Nor is it unlawful to get a rich wife, or more custom to my shop. 

3. Besides, the man that gets these by becoming religious, gets that which is good 
of them that are good, by becoming good himself: so, then, here is a good wife, and 
good customers, and good gain, and all these by becoming religious, which is good : 
therefore, to become religious to get all these is a good and profitable design. 

This answer thus made by Mr. Money-love to Mr. By-ends' question was highly 
applauded by them all ; wherefore they concluded upon the whole that it was most 
wholesome and advantageous. And because, as they thought, no man was able to 
contradict it, and because Christian and Hopeful were yet within call, they jointlv 
agreed to assault them with this question as soon as they overtook them ; and the 
rather because they had opposed Mr. By-ends before. So they called after them, 
and they stopped and stood still till they came up to them ; but they concluded as 
they went that not Mr. By-ends, but old Mr. Hold-the-world, should propound the 
question to them, because, as they supposed, their answer to him would be without 
the remainder of that heat that was kindled betwixt Mr. By-ends and them at their 
parting a little before. 

So they came up to each other ; and after a short salutation, Mr. Hold-the-world 
propounded the question to Christian and his fellow, and bid them to answer it if they 
could. 

Chris. Then said Christian, " Even a babe in religion may answer ten thousand 

16 



122 THE PTLGRnrS PROGRESS. 

sucli questions. For if it be unlawful to follow Christ for loaves, as it is/" how much 
more abominable is it to make of Him and religion a stalking-horse to get and enjoy 
the world ! Nor do we find any other than heathens, hypocrites, devils, and witches 
are of this opinion. 

"1. Heathens: fm- when Haraor and Shecheni had a mind to the daughter and 
cattle of Jacob, and saw that there was no way for them to come at them but by be 
coming circumcised, they said to their companions, ' If every male of us be circumcised, 
as they are circumcised, shall not their cattle, and their substance, and every beast of 
theirs be ours?' Their daughter and their cattle were that which they sought to 
obtain, and their religion the stalking-horse they made use of to come at them. Read 
the whole* story."* 

" 2. The hypocritical Pharisees were also of this religion : long prayers were their 
pretence ; but to get widows' houses was their intent, and greater damnation was from 
God their judgment."* 

" 3. Judas the devil was also of this religion : he was religious for the bag, that he 
might be possessed of what was therein ; but he was lost, cast away, and the very son 
of perdition. 

" 4. Simon the witch was of this religion too ; for he would have the Holy Ghost, 
that he might have got money therewith ; and his sentence from Peter's mouth was 
according."" 

" 5. Neither will it out of my mind, but that that man who takes up religion for the 
world, will throw away religion for the world ; for so surely as Judas resigned the 
world in becoming religious, so surely did he also sell religion and his Master for the 
same. To answer the question, therefore, affirmatively, as I perceive you have done, 
and to accept of, as authentic, such answer, is heathenish, hypocritical, and devilish ; 
and your reward will be according to your works." 

Then they stood staring one upon the other, but had not wherewith to answer 
Christian. Hopeful also approved of the soundness of Christian's answer; so there 
was a great silence among them. Mr. By-ends and his company also staggered and 
kept behind, that Christian and Hopeful might outgo them. Then said Christian to 
his fellow, " If these men cannot stand before the sentence of men, what will they do 
with the sentence of God ? And if they are mute when dealt with by vessels of clay, 
what will they do when they shall be rebuked by the flames of devouring fire ? " 

Then Christian and Hopeful outwent them again, and went till they came to a deli- 
cate plain, called Ease, where they went with much content ; but that plain was but 
narrow, so they were quickly got over it. Now at the farther side of that plain was a 



CHRISTIAN MEETS DEMAS. 123 

little hill, called Lucre, and in that hill a silver mine, which some of them that had 
formerly gone that way, because of the rarity of it, had turned aside to see ; but going 
too near the brink of the pit, the ground, being deceitful under them, broke, and they 
were slain ; some also had been maimed there, and could not to their dying day be their 
own men again. 

Then I saw in my dream that a little off the road, over against the silver mine, stood 
Demas (gentleman-like) to call to passengers to come and see ; who said to Christian 
and his fellow, " Ho ! turn aside hither, and I will show you a thing." 

Chris. What thing so deserving as to turn us out of the way ? 

Demas. Here is a silver mine, and some digging in it for treasure ; if you will come, 
with a little pains you may richly provide for yourselves. 

Hope. Then said Hopeful, " Let us go see." 

Chris. " Not I," said Christian. " I have heard of this plac£ before now, and how 
many have there been slain ; and besides, that treasure is a snare to those that seek it, 
for it hindereth them in their pilgrimage." 

Chris. Then Christian called to Demas, saying, " Is not the place dangerous ? 
Hath it not hindered many in their pilgrimage ? " "' 

Demas. Not very dangerous, except to those that are careless. But withal, he 
blushed as he sj^ake. 

Chris. Then said Christian to Hopeful, " Let us not stir a step, but still keep on 
our way." 

Hope. I will warrant you, when By-ends comes up, if he hath the same invitation 
as we, he will turn in thither to see. 

Chris. No doubt thereof, for his principles lead him that way ; and a hundred to 
one but he dies there. 

Demas. Then Demas called out again, saying, "But will you not come over and see? " 

Chris. Then Christian roundly answered, saying, " Demas, thou art an enemy to 
the right ways of the Lord of this way, and hast been already condemned for thine 
own turning aside, by one of His Majesty's judges;^** and why seekest thou to bring 
us into the like condemnation ? Besides, if we at all turn aside, our Lord the King 
will certainly hear thereof, and will there put us to shame where we should stand with 
boldness before Him." 

Demas cried again that he also was one of their fraternity, and that, if they would 
tarry a little, he also himself would walk with them. 

Chris. Then said Christian, "What is thy name? Is it not the same by the which 
I have called thee ? " 



124 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Demas. Yes, my name is Demas ; I am the son of Abraham. 

Chris. I know you : Gehazi was your great-grandfather, and Judas your father, and 
you liuve trod in their steps. It is but a devilish prank that thou usest: thy father 
w;is hiuigoil for a traitor, and thou deservest no better reward.''''' Assure thyself that 
-when we come to the King, we will tell him of this thy behavior. Thus they went 
their way. 

By this time By-ends and his companions were come again within sight, and they 
at the first beck went over to Demas. Now, whether they fell into the pit by looking 
over the brink thereof, or whether they went down to dig, or whether they were 
smothered in the bottom by the damps that commonly arise, of these things I am not 
certain; but this I observed, that they never were seen again in the way. Then sang 
Christian : 

' By-ends and silver Demas both agree : 
One calls ; the other runs, that he may be 
A sharer in his lucre ; so these two 
Take up in this world, and no farlher jro. " 

Now, I saw that just on the other side of the plain the pilgrims came to a place 
where stood an old monument hard by the highway-side ; at the sight of which they 
were both concerned, because of the strangeness of the form thereof; for it seemed 
to them as if it had been a woman transformed into the shape of a pillar. Here, 
therefore, they stood looking and looking upon it, but could not for a time tell what 
they should make thereof At last Hopeful espied written above, upon the head 
thereof, a writing in a-n unusual hand; but he, being no scholar, called to Christian 
(for he was learned), to see if he could pick out the meaning; so he came, and after a 
little lavins; of letters tosrether, he found the same to be this, " Remember Lot's wife." 
So he read it to his fellow ; after which, they both concluded that that was the pillar 
of salt into which Lot's wife was turned, for her looking back with a covetous heart 
-when she wjis going from Sodom.^"" Which sudden and amazing sight gave them 
occasion for this discourse : 

Chris. Ah, my brother ! this is a seasonable sight. It came opportunely to us after 
the invitation which Demas gave us to come over to view the hill Lucre ; and, had 
Tve gone over, as he desired us, and as thou wast inclining to do, my brother, we had, 
for aught I know, been made ourselves, like this woman, a sjiectacle for those that 
shall come after to behold. 

Hope. I am sorry that I was so foolish, and am made to wonder that I am not now 
as Lot's wife; for wherein was the difference betwixt her sin and mine? She only 




Christian and Hopeful are Reminded of Lot's Wife. 

" They stood looking and looking upon it, but could not tell what they should make thereof.' 



1125) 



126 THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 

looked back, and I had a desire to go see. Let grace be adored ; and let me be 
ashamed that ever such a thing should be in mine heart. 

Chris. Let us take notice of what we see here, for our help for time to come. This 
woman escaped one judgment, for she fell not by the destruction of Sodom ; yet she 
was destroyed by another, as we see : she is turned into a pillar of salt. 

Hope. True, and she may be to us both caution and example : caution, that we 
should shun her sin, or a sign of what judgment will overtake such as shall not be 
prevented by this caution ; so Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, with the two hundred and 
fifty men that perished in their sin, did also become a sign or example to others to 
beware."^ But, above all, I muse at one thing ; to wit, how Demas and his fellows can 
stand so confidently yonder to look for that treasure, which this woman, but for look- 
ing behind her after (for we read not that she stepped one foot out of the way), was 
turned into a pillar of salt ; especially since the judgment which overtook her did make 
her an example within sight of where they are ; for they cannot choose but see her, did 
they but lift up their eyes. 

Chris. It is a thing to be wondered at, and it argueth that their hearts ai'e grown 
desperate in the case ; and I cannot tell who to compare them to so fitly as to them 
that pick pockets in the presence of the judge, or that will cut purses under the gallows. 
It is said of the men of Sodom, that they were sinners exceedingly, because they were 
sinners " before the Lord," that is, in His eyesight, and notwithstanding the kindnesses 
that He had showed them, for the land of Sodom was now like the garden of Eden 
heretofore.'"'^ This, therefore, provoked Him the more to jealousy, and made their 
plague as hot as the fire of the Lord out of heaven could make it. And it is most 
rationally to be concluded that such, even such as these are, that shall sin in the sight, 
yea, and that too in despite of such examples that are set continually before them to 
caution them to the contrary, must be partakers of severest judgments. 

Hope. Doubtless thou hast said the truth ; but what a mercy is it that neither thou, 
but especially I, am not made myself this example ! This ministereth occasion to us 
to thank God, to fear before Him and always to remember Lot's wife. 

I saw, then, that they went on their way to a pleasant river, which David the King 
called "the river of God," but John, "the river of the water of life." '''^ Now their 
way lay just upon the bank of this river ; here, therefore. Christian and his companion 
walked with great delight ; they drank also of the water of the river, which was pleas- 
ant and enlivening to their weary spirits. Besides, on the banks of this river on either 
side were green trees that bore all manner of fruit ; and the leaves of the trees were 
good for medicine ; with the fruit of these trees they were also much delighted ; and 



THE RIVER OF THE WATER OF LIFE. 



127 



the leaves they ate to prevent surfeits, and other diseases that are incident to those that 
heat their blood by travels. On either side of the river was also a meadow, curiously 
beautified with lilies, and it was green all the year long. In this meadow they lay down 
and slept, for here they might lie down safely.^''* When they awoke, they gathered 
again of the fruit of the trees and drank again of the water of the river, and they lay 
down again to sleep. This they did several days and nights. Then they sang : 



were 

165 



"Behold ye, how these crystal streams do glide. 
To comfort pilgrims by the highway-side ; 
The meadows green, besides their fragrant smell. 
Yield dainties for them ; and he who can tell 
What pleasant fruit, yea, leaves, these trees do yield, 
Will soon sell all, that he may buy this field." 

So, when they were disposed to go on (for they were not as yet at their journey's 
end), they ate and drank, and departed. 

Now, I beheld in my dream that they had not journeyed far, but the river and tlie 
way for a time parted, at which they were not 
a little sorry ; yet they durst not go out of 
the way. Now the way from the river was 
rough, and their feet tender by reason of their 
travels ; so the souls of the pilgrims 
much discouraged because of the way. 
Wherefore, still as they went on they wished 
for a better way. Now, a little before them 
there was, on the left hand of the road, a 
meadow, and a stile to go over into it, and 
that meadow is called By-path Meadow. 
Then said Christian to his fellow, " If this 
meadow lieth along by our wayside, let's go 
over it." Then he went to the stile to see ; 
and behold, a jjath lay along by the way on 
the other side of the fence. " It is according 
to my wish," said Christian ; " here is the 
easiest going. Come, good Hopeful, and let 
us go over." 

Hope. But how if this path should lead us out of the way ? 

Chris. " That is not likely," said the other. " Look, doth it not go along by the 




Vain-Confidence. 



128 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

wayside ? " So Hopeful, being persuaded by his fellow, weut after him over the stile. 
When they were gone over, and were got into the path, they found it very easy to their 
feet; and withal, they, looking before them, espied a man walking as they did, and 
his name was Vain-Confidence : so they called after him, and asked him whither that 
way led. He said, " To the Celestial Gate." " Look," said Christian, " did not I tell 
you so ? By this you may see we are right." So they followed, and he went before 
them. But, behold, the night came on, and it grew very dark ; so that they that were 
behind lost sight of him that went before. He, therefore, that went before (Vain- 
Confidence by name) not seeing the way before him, fell into a deep pit, which was on 
purpose there made by the Prince of those grounds to catch vain-glorious fools withal, 
aud was dashed in pieces with his fall.^^^ 

Now Christian and his fellow heard hiiu fall. So they called to know the matter; 
but there was none to answer, only they heard a groaning. Then said Hopeful, 
" Where are we now ? " Then was his fellow silent, as mistrusting that he had led 
him out of the way ; and now it began to rain, and thunder, and lighten in a most 
dreadful manner, and the water rose amain. 

Then Hopeful groaned in himself, saying, " Oh that I had kept on my way ! " 

Chkis. Who could have thought that this path should have led us out of the way '' 

Hope. I was afraid on't at the very first, and therefore gave you that gentle caution. 
I would have spoken plainer, but that you are older than I; 

Chris. Good brother, be not offended. I am sorry I have brought thee out of the 
way, and that I have put thee into such imminent danger. Pray, my brother, forgive 
me : I did not do it of any evil intent. 

Hope. Be comforted, my brother, for I forgive thee, and believe, too, that this shall 
be for our good. 

Chris. I am glad I have with me a merciful brother ; but we must not stand still : 
let us try to go back again. 

Hope. But, good brother, let me go before. 

Chris. No, if you please ; let me go first, that, if there be any danger, I may be 
first therein, because by my means we are both gone out of the way. 

Hope. " No," said Hopeful, " you shall not go first ; for your mind being troubled 
may lead you out of the way again." Then for their encouragement they heard the 
voice of one saying, " Let thine heart be towards the highway, even the way that thou 
wentest ; turn again." "'' But by this time the waters were greatly risen, by reason of 
which the way of going back was very dangerous. (Then I thought that it is easier 
going out of the way when we are in, than going in when we are out.) Yet they 



THE WAY TO DOUBTING CASTLE. 129 

adventured to go back ; but it was so dark, and the flood so high, that, in their going 
back, they had like to have been drowned nine or ten times. 

Neither could they, with all the skill they had, get again to the stile that night. 
Wherefore, at last lighting under a little shelter, they sat down there until daybreak ; 
but, being weary, they fell asleep. Now, there was, not far from the place where they 
lay, a castle, called Doubting Castle, the owner whereof was Giant Despair, and it was 
in his grounds they now were sleeping ; wherefore he, getting up in the morning early, 
and walking up and down in his fields, caught Christian and Hopeful asleep in his 
grounds. Then, with a grim and surly voice, he bid them awake, and asked them 
whence they were, and what they did in his grounds. They told him they were 
pilgrims, and that they had lost their way. Then said the giant, " You have this night 
trespassed on me by trampling in and lying on my grounds, and therefore you must 
go along with me." So they were forced to go, because he was stronger than they. 
They had also but little to say, for they knew themselves in fault. The giant, there- 
fore, drove them before him, and put them into his castle, into a very dark dungeon, 
nasty and stinking to the spirits of these two men. Here, then, they lay from 
Wednesday morning till Saturday night, without one bit of bread or drop of drink, 
or light, or any to ask how they did ; they were, therefore, here in evil case, and were 
far from friends and acquaintance.^"* Now, in this place Christian had double sorrow, 
because it was through his unadvised haste that they were brought into this distress. 

Now, Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was Diffidence. So, when he was 
gone to bed, he told his wife what he had done ; to wit, that he had taken a couple 
of prisoners and cast them into his dungeon for trespassing on his grounds. Then he 
asked her also what he had best to do further to them. So she asked him what they 
were, whence they came, and whither they were bound ; and he told her. Then .she 
counselled him, that when he arose in the morning, he should beat them without any 
mercy. So, when he arose, he getteth him a grievous crab-tree cudgel, and goes down 
into the dungeon to them, and there first fell to rating of them as if they were dogs, 
although they never gave him a word of distaste. Then he falls upon them, and 
beats them fearfully, in such sort that they were not able to help themselves, or to 
turn them upon the floor. This done, he withdraws and leaves them there to condole 
their misery and to mourn under their distress. So all that day they sjjent their time 
in nothing but sighs and bitter lamentations. The next night she, talking with her 
husband about them further, and understanding that they were yet alive, did advise 
him to counsel them to make away with themselves. So, when morning was come, he 
goes to them in a surly manner, as before, and, perceiving them to be very sore with 

17 



130 THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 

the stripes that he had given them the day before, he told them that, since they were 
never like to come out of that place, their only way would be forthwith to make an 
end of themselves, either with knife, halter, or poison : " For why," said he, "should 
you choose life, seeing it is attended with so much bitterness ? " But they desired 
him to let them go. With that, he looked ugly upon them, and rushing to them, had 
doubtless made an end of them himself, but that he fell into one of his fits (for he 
sometimes, in sunshiny weather, fell into fits) , and lost for a time the use of his hand ; 
wherefore he withdrew, and left them as before to consider what to do. Then did 
the prisoners consult between themselves, whether it was best to take his counsel or 
no ; and thus they began to discourse : 

Chris. "Brother," said Christian, "what shall we do? The life we now live is 
miserable. For my part, I know not whether is best, to live thus, or to die out of 
hand. My soul chooseth strangling rather than life, and the grave is more easy for 
me than this dungeon."^ Shall we be ruled by the giant? " 

Hope. Indeed, our present condition is dreadful ; and death would be far more 
welcome to me than thus for ever to abide. But yet, let us consider : the Lord of 
the country to which we are going hath said, "Thou shalt do no murder," no, not to 
another man's person ; much more, then, are we forbidden to take his counsel to kill 
ourselves. Besides, he that kills another can but commit murder upon his body ; but 
for one to kill himself is to kill body and soul at once. And, moreover, my brother, 
thou talkest of ease in the grave ; but hast thou forgotten the hell, whither, for certain, 
the murderers go? for " no murderer hath eternal life," etc. And let us consider 
again, that all the law is not in the hand of Giant Despair : others, so far as I can 
understand, have been taken by him as well as we, and yet have escaped out of his 
hand. Who knows but that God, who made the world, may cause that Giant Despair 
may die ? or that, at some time or other, he may forget to lock us in ? or that he may, 
in a short time, have another of his fits before us, and he may lose the use of his 
limbs ? and if ever that should come to pass again, for my part, I am resolved to pluck 
up the heart of a man, and to try my utmost to get from under his hand. I was a 
fool that I did not try to do it before. But, however, my brother, let us be patient, 
and endure awhile : the time may come that may give us a happy release ; but let us 
not be our own murderers. 

With these words. Hopeful at present did moderate the mind of his brother ; so they 
continued together in the dark that day, in their sad and doleful condition. 

Well, towards evening, the giant goes down into the dungeon again, to see if his 
prisoners had taken his counsel. But, when he came there, he found them alive ; and 




Giant Despair. 
' Over this stile is the way to Dnubting Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair." 



(131) 



132 THE PILGRIM'S PBOGRESS. 

truly, alive was all; for now, what for want of bread and water, and bj' reason of the 
wounds they received when he beat them, they could do little but breathe. But, I 
say, he found them alive ; at which he fell into a grievous rage, and told them that, 
seeing they had disobeyed his counsel, it should be worse with them than if they had 
never been born. 

At this they trembled greatly, and I tliink that Christian fell into a swoon ; but, 
coming a little to himself again, they renewed their discourse about the giant's counsel, 
and whether yet they had best to take it or no. Now, Christian again seemed for 
doing it ; but Hopeful made his second reply as followeth : 

Hope. " My brother," said he, " rememberest thou not how valiant thou hast been 
heretofore? Apollyon could not crush thee, nor could all that thou didst hear, or see, 
or feel in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. What hardship, terror, and amazement 
hast thou already gone through ! and art thou now nothing but fear? Thou seest that 
I am in the dungeon with thee, a far weaker man by nature than thou art; also this 
giant has wounded me as well as thee, and hath also cut off the bread and water from 
my mouth ; and, with thee, I mourn witliout the light. But let us exercise a little 
more patience. Remember how thou playedst the man at Vanity Fair, and wast 
neither afraid of the chain, nor cage, nor yet of bloody death. Wherefore, let us (at 
least to avoid the shame that it becomes not a Christian to be found in) bear up with 
patience as well as we can." 

Now, night being come again, and the giant and his wife being in bed, she asked 
him concerning the prisoners, and if they had taken his counsel : to which he replied, 
" They are sturdy rogues ; they choose rather to bear all hardship than to make away 
with themselves." Then said she, " Take them into the castle-yard to-morrow, and 
show them the bones and skulls of those that thou hast already dispatched ; and make 
them believe, ere a week comes to an end, thou wilt tear them also in pieces, as thou 
hast done their fellows before them." 

So when, the morning was come, the giant goes to them again, and takes them into 
the castle-yard, and shows them as his wife had bidden him. " These," said he, " were 
pilgrims, as you are, once, and they trespassed in my grounds as you have done ; and 
when I thought fit, I tore them in pieces ; and so within ten days I will do you. Go, 
get you down to your den again." And, with that, he beat them all the way thither. 
They lay, therefore, all day on Saturday in a lamentable case, as before. Now, when 
night was come, and when Mrs. Diffidence and her husband, the giant, were got to 
bed, they began to renew their discourse of their prisoners ; and withal, the old giant 
wondered that he could neither by his blows nor counsel bring them to an end. And, 




Christian and Hopeful in the Castle of Giant Despair. 
" So they continued together in the dark that day, in their sad and doleful condition." 



(133) 



134 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

with that, his wife replied, " I fear," said she, " that they live in hope that some will 
come to relieve them ; or that they have picklocks about them, by the means of which 
they hope to escape." "And sayest thou so, ray dear?" said the giant: "I will 
therefore search them in the mornins:." 

Well, on Saturday about midnight, they began to pray, and continued in jirayer till 
almost break of day. 

Now, a little before it was day, good Christian, as one half amazed, brake out into 
this passionate speech : " AVhat a fool," quoth he, " am I to lie in a stinking dungeon, 
when I may as well walk at liberty ! I have a key in my bosom called Promise, that 
will, I am persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle." Then said Hopeful, '' That 
is good news, good brother: pluck it out of thy bosom, and try." 

Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try at the dungeon door, 
whose bolt, as he turned the key, gave back, and the door flew open with ease, and 
Christian and Hopeful both came out. Then he went to the outward door that leads 
into the castle-yard, and with his key opened that door also. After, he went to the 
iron gate, for that must be opened too ; but that lock went damnable hard, yet the 
key did ojien it. Then they thrust open the gate to make their escape with speed ; 
but that gate, as it opened, made such a creaking, that it waked Giant Despair, who, 
hastily rising to pursue his prisoners, felt his limbs to fail ; for his fits took him again, 
so that he could by no means go after them. Then they went on, and came to the 
King's highway again, and so were safe because they were out of his jurisdiction. 

Now, when they were gone over the stile, they began to contrive with themselves 
what they should do at that stile to prevent those that should come after from falling 
into the hands of Giant Despair. So they consented to erect there a pillar, and to 
engrave upon the side thereof this sentence : " Over this stile is the way to Doubting 
Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair, who despiseth the King of the Celestial 
Country, and seeks to destroy His holy pilgrims." Many, therefore, that followed 
after, read what was written, and escaped the danger. This done, they sang as 
follows : 

"Out of tlie way we went, and then we fouiiJ 
Wliat 't was to treail upon forbidden ground : 
And let them that come after have a care, 
Lest heedlessness make them as we to fare ; 
Lest they for tres|)as8ing his prisoners are 
Whose Castle 's Doubting, and whose nime 's Despair." 



THE SHEPHERDS ON THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS. 135 




CHAPTER VIII. 

HEY went then till they came to the Delectable Mountains, which mountains 
belong to the Lord of that hill ot" which we have spoken before. So they went 
up to the mountains to behold the gardens and orchards, the vineyards and 
fountains of water, where also they drank and washed themselves, and did freely 
eat of the vineyards. Now there were on the tops of these mountains shepherds feeding 
their flocks, and they stood by the highway-side. The pilgrims, therefore, went to 
them, and leaning upon their staves (as is common with weary pilgrims when they 
stand to talk with any by the way), they asked, "Whose delectable mountains are 
these, and whose be the sheep that feed upon them ? " 

Shep. These mountains are Immanuel's Land, and they are within sight of His 
city ; and the sheep also are His, and He laid down His life for them."" 

Chris. Is this the way to the Celestial City ? 

Shep. You are just in your way. 

Chri.s. How far is it thither ? 

Shep. Too far for any but those who shall get thither indeed. 

Chkis. Is the way safe or dangerous? 

Shep. Safe for those for whom it is to be safe ; but transgressors shall fall therein."' 

Chris. Is there in this place any relief for pilgrims that are weary and faint in the 
way? 

Shep. The Lord of these mountains hath given us a charge not to be forgetful to 
entertain strangers ; "" therefore the good of the place is before you. 

I saw also in my dream that when the shepherds perceived that they were way- 
faring men, they also put questions to them (to which they made answer as in other 
places), as, "Whence came you?" and, "How got you into the way?" and, "By 
what means have you so persevered therein ? for but few of them that begin to come 
hither do show their faces on these mountains." But when the shepherds heard their 
answers, being pleased therewith, they looked very lovingly upon them, and said, 
" Welcome to the Delectable Mountains ! " 

The shepherds, I say, whose names were Knowledge, Experience, Watchful, and 
Sincere, took them by the hand and had them to their tents, and made them partake 
of what was ready at present. They said moreover, " We would that you should stay 
here awhile, to be acquainted with us, and yet more to solace yourselves with the 



136 THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 

good of these Delectable Mountains." They then told them that they were content 
to stay. So they went to rest that night, because it was very late. 

Then I saw in my dream that in the morning the shepherds called up Christian 
and Hopeful to walk with them upon the mountains. So they went forth with them, 
and walked a while, having a pleasant prospect on every side. Then said the shep- 
herds one to another, " Shall we show these pilgrims some wonders ? " So, when they 
had concluded to do it, they had them first to the top of the hill called Error, which 
was very steep on the farthest side, and bid them look down to the bottom. So 
Christian and Hopeful looked down, and saw at the bottom several men dashed all 
to pieces by a fall they had had from the top. Then said Christian, " What meaneth 
(this ? " Then the shepherds answered, " Have you not heard of them that were made 
to err, by hearkening to Hymeneus and Philetus, as concerning the faith of the res- 
urrection of the body?""^ They answered, "Yes." Then said the shepherds, 
" Those you see lie dashed to pieces at the bottom of this mountain are they ; and 
they have continued to this day unburied, as you see, for an example to others to take 
heed how they clamber too high, or how they come too near the brink of this mountain." 

Then I saw that they had them to the top of another mountain, and the name of 
that is Caution, and bid them look afar off; and when they did, they perceived, as 
they thought, several men walking up and down among the tombs that were there ; 
and they perceived that the men were blind, because they stumbled sometimes upon 
the t'^mbs, and because they could not get out from among them. Then said Christian, 
" What means this ? " 

The shepherds then answered, " Did you not see a little below these mountains a 
stile that led into a meadow on the left hand side of this way? " They answered, " Yes." 
Then said the shepherds, " From that stile there goes a path that leads directly to 
Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair ; and these men " (pointing to them 
among the tombs) " came once on pilgrimage, as you do now, even until they came to 
that same stile. And because the right way was rough in that place, they chose to go 
out of it into that meadow, and there were taken by Giant Despair, and cast into 
Doubting Castle, where, after they had been kept a while in the dungeon, he at last 
did put out their eyes, and led them among those tombs, where he has left them to 
wander to this very day, that the saying of the Wise Man might be fulfilled, ' He that 
wandereth out of the Avay of understanding, shall remain in the congregation of the 
dead.' " '''* Then Christian and Hopeful looked upon one another with tears gushing 
out, but yet said nothing to the shepherds. 

Then I saw in my dream, that the shepherds had them to another place in a bottom, 
where was a door on the side of a hill ; and they opened the door, and bid them look 



THE GATE OF THE CELESTIAL CITY. 137 

in. They looked in, therefore, and saw that within it was very dark and smoky; they 
also thought that they heard there a rumbling noise, as of fire, and a cry of some tor- 
mented, and that they smelt the scent of brimstone. Then said Christian, " "What 
means this?" The shepherds told them, "This is a by-way to hell, a way that 
hypocrites go in at : namely, such as sell their birthright, with Esau ; such as sell their 
master, with Judas ; such as blaspheme the Gospel, with Alexander ; and that lie and 
dissemble, with Ananias and Sapphira his wife." 

Hope. Then said Hopeful to the shepherds, " I perceive that these had on them, 
even every one, a show of pilgrimage, as we have now ; had they not ?" 

Shep. Yes, and held it a long time too. 

Hope. How far might they go on in pilgrimage in their day, since they notv/ith- 
standing were thus miserably cast away ? 

Shep. Some farther, and some not so far as these mountains. 

Then said the pilgrims one to another, " We have need to cry to the Strong for 
strength." 

Shep. Ay, and you will have need to use it when you have it, too. 

By this time the pilgrims had a desire to go forward, and the shepherds a desire 
they should ; so they walked together towards the end of the mountains. Then said 
the shepherds one to another, •' Let us here show to the pilgrims the gate of the 
Celestial City, if they have skill to look through our perspective glass." The pilgrims 
then lovingly accepted the motion ; so they had them to the top of a high hill called 
Clear, and gave them their glass to look. 

Then they essayed to look ; but the remembrance of that last thing that the shep- 
herds had showed them, made their hands shake, by means of which impediment they 
could not look steadily through the glass ; yet they thought they saw something like 
the gate, and also some of the glory of the place. Thus they went away, and sang 

this song : 

"Thus by the shepherds secrets are revealed, 

Which from all other men are kept concealed. 

Come to the shepherds, then, if you would see 

Things deep, things hid, and that mysterious be." 

When they were about to depart, one of the shepherds gave them a note of the 
way. Another of them bid them beware of the Flatterer. The third bid them take 
heed that they slept not upon the Enchanted Ground. And the fourth bid them God 
speed. 

So I awoke from my dream. 

^ 18 



138 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



CHAPTEE IX. 

'^Cl'^ND I slept, and dreamed again, and saw the same two pilgrims going down the 
to,pfe mountains along the highway towards the city. Now, a little below these 
mountains, on the left hand, lieth the country of Conceit ; from which country 
there comes into the way in which the pilgrims walked a little crooked lane. 
Here, therefore, they met with a very brisk lad, that came out of that country, and his 
name was Ignorance. So Christian asked him from what parts he came, and whither 
he was going. 

Ignor. Sir, I was born in the country that lieth off there a little on the left hand, 
and I am going to the Celestial City. 

Chris. But how do you think to get in at the gate ? for you may find some difficulty 
there. 

Ignor. " As other people do," said he. 

Chris. But what have you to show at the gate, that may cause that the gate should 
be ojaened to you ? 

Ignor. I know my Lord's will, and have been a good liver ; I pay every man his 
own ; I j)ray, fast, pay tithes, and give alms, and have left my country for whither I 
am going. 

Chris. But thou camest not in at the wicket-gate that is at the head of this way: 
thou camest in hither through that same crooked lane ; and therefore I fear, however 
thou mayest think of thyself, when the reckoning day shall come, thou wilt have laid 
to thy charge that thou art a thief and a robber, instead of getting admittance into the 
city. 

Ignor. Gentlemen, ye be utter strangers to me: I know you not: be content to 
follow the religion of your country, and I will follow the religion of mine. I hope all 
will be well. And, as for the gate that you talk of, all the world knows that that is a 
great way off of our country. I cannot think that any man in all our parts doth so 
much as know the way to it; nor need they matter whether they do or no, since we 
have, as you see, a fine, pleasant green lane, that comes down from our country, the 
next way into the way. 

When Christian saw that the man was wise in his own conceit, he said to Hopeful, 
whisperingly, "There is more hope of a fool than of him.""'* And said, moreover, 



THEY OVERTAKE IGNORANCE. 



139 




Ignorance. 



" When he that is a fool walketh by the way, 
his wisdom faileth him, and he saith to every 
one that he is a fool."" What! shall we talk 
further with him, or outgo him at present, 
and so leave him to think of what he hath 
heard already, and then stop again for him 
afterwards, and see if by degrees we can do 
any good to him? " 
Then said Hopeful : 

"Let Ignorance a little while now muse 
On what is said, and let him not refuse 
Good counsel to embrace, lest he remain 
Still ignorant of what's the chiefest gaiTi. 
God saith, those that no understanding have 
(Although He made them), them He will not saTe." 

Hope. He further added, " It is not good, 
I think, to say all to him at once : let us pass 
him by, if you will, and talk to him anon, 
even as he is able to bear it." 



So they both went on, and Ignorance he 
came after. Now, when they had j^assed him 
a little way, they entered into a very dark 
lane, where they met a man whom seven devils 
had bound with seven strong cords, and were 
carrying of him back to the door that they saw 
on the side of the hill."' Now good Christian 
began to tremble, and so did Hopeful his com- 
panion ; yet, as the devils led away the man, 
Christian looked to see if he knew him ; and 
he thought it might be one Turn-away, that 
dwelt in the town of Apostasy. But he did 
not perfectly see his face, for he did hang his 
head like a thief that is found ; but being gone 
25ast, Hopeful looked after him, and espied on 
his back a paper with this inscription, " Wan- 
ton professor and damnable apostate." 

Then said Christian to his fellow, " Now I 




"A man whom seven devils had bound." 



140 THE PILGRnrS PROGRESS. 

call to remembrance that which was told of a thing that happened to a good man here- 
about. The name of that man was Little-Faith, but a good man, and he dwelt in the 
town of Sincere. The thing was this : At the entering in at this passage, there comes 
down from Broad-way Gate a lane called Dead Man's Lane ; so-called because of the 
murders that are commonly done there ; and this Little-Faith, going on pilgrimage as 
we do now, chanced to sit down there, and slept. Now, there happened at that time to 
come down that lane, from Broad-way Gate, three sturdy rogues, and their names were 
Faint-heart, Mistrust, and Guilt, three brothers ; and they espying Little-Faith, where 
he was, came galloping up with speed. Now, the good man was just awaked from his 
sleep, and was getting up to go on his journey. So they came up all to him, and with 
threatening language bid him stand. At this, Little-Faith looked as white as a clout, 
and had neither power to fight nor fly. Then said Faint-heart, 'Deliver thy purse;' 
but he, making no haste to do it (for he was loth to lose his money), Mistrust ran up 
to him, and, thrusting his hand into his pocket, pulled out thence a bag of silver. 
Then he cried out, ' Thieves ! thieves ! ' With that. Guilt, with a great club that was 
in his hand, struck Little-Faith on the head, and with that blow felled him flat to the 
ground, where he lay bleeding as one that would bleed to death. All this while the 
thieves stood by. But, at last, they hearing that some were upon the road, and fearing 
lest it should be one Great-Grace, that dwells in the city of Good-Confidence, they 
betook themselves to their heels, and left this good man to shift for himself. Now, 
after a while, Little-Faith came to himself, and, getting up, made shift to scramble on 
his way. This was the story." 

Hope. But did they take from him all that ever he had ? 

Chris. No ; the place where his jewels were they never ransacked ; so those he kept 
still. But, as I was told, the good man was much afflicted for his loss, for the thieves 
got most of his spending money. That which they got not, as I said, were jewels ; 
also he had a little odd money left, but scarce enough to bring him to his journey's 
end. Nay,, if I was not misinformed, he was forced to beg as he went, to keep himself 
alive, for his jewels he might not sell ; but, beg and do what he could, he went, as we 
say, with many a hungry belly the most part of the rest of the way.'^* 

Hope. But is it not a wonder they got not from him his certificate, by which he was 
to receive admission at the Celestial Gate ? 

Chris. It is a wonder ; but they got not that, though they missed it not through 
any good cunning of his ; for he, being dismayed by their coming upon him, had 
neither power nor skill to hide anything ; so it was more by good providence than by 
Lis endeavor, that they missed of that good thing."' 




Faixt-heart, Miss-trust and Guilt attack Little-faith. 

' So they came up all to him, and with threatening language hid him stand." 



(141] 



142 THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 

Hope. But it must needs be a comfort to him that they got not his jewels from him. 

Chris. It might have been great comfort to him, had he used it as he should ; but 
they that told me the story said, that he made but little use of it all the rest of the 
way, and that because of the dismay that he had in their taking away his money. 
Indeed, he forgot it a great part of the rest of his journey ; and besides, when at any 
time it came into his mind, and he began to be comforted therewith, then would fresh 
thoughts of his loss come again upon him, and those thoughts would swallow U]) all. 

Hope. Alas, poor man ! this could not but be a great grief unto him. 

Chris. Grief! ay, a grief indeed. Would it not have been so to any of us, had we 
been used as he, to be robbed and wounded too, and that in a strange place, as he 
was ? It is a wonder he did not die with grief, poor heart ! I was told that he 
scattered almost all the rest of the way with nothing but doleful and bitter complaints ; 
telling also to all that overtook him, or that he overtook in the way as he went, where 
he was robbed, and how ; who they were that did it, and what he had lost ; how he 
was wounded, and that he hardly escaped with life. 

Hope. But it is a wonder that his necessities did not put him upon selling or pawn- 
ing some of his jewels, that he might have wherewith to relieve himself in his journey. 

Chris. Thou talkest like one upon whose head is the shell to this very day. For 
what should he pawn them, or to whom should he sell them ? In all that country 
where he was robbed, his jewels were not accounted of; nor did he want that relief 
which could from thence be administered to him. Besides, had his jewels been miss- 
ing at the gate of the Celestial City, he had (and that he knew well enough) been 
excluded from an inheritance there ; and that would have been worse to him than the 
appearance and yillany of ten thousand thieves. 

Hope. Why art thou so tart, my brother ? Esau sold his birthright, and that for a 
mess of pottage,^*" and that birthright was his greatest jewel; and if he, why might not 
Little-Faith do so too ? 

Chris. Esau did sell his birthright indeed ; and so do many besides, and, by so 
doing, exclude themselves from the chief blessing, as also that caitiff did. But you 
must put a difference betwixt Esau and Little-Faith, and also betwixt their estates. 
Esau's birthright was typical ; but Little-Faith's jewels were not so. Esau's belly was 
his god; but Little-Faith's belly was not so. Esau's want lay in his fleshly appetite; 
Little-Faith's did not so. Besides, Esau could see no further than to the fulfilling of 
his lusts : " For I am at the point to die," said he ; " and what good will this birthright 
do me ? " "' But Little-Faith, though it was his lot to have but little faith, was by his 
little faith kept from such extravagances, and made to see and prize his jewels more 



HOPEFUL REBUKED. 143 

than to sell them, as Esau did his birthright. You read not anywhere that Esau had 
faith, — no, not so much as a little ; therefore no marvel if, where the flesh only bears 
sway (as it will in that man where no faith is to resist), he sells his birthright, and his 
soul, and all, and that to the devil of hell ; for it is with such as it is with the ass, who 
in her occasions cannot be turned away.'"'" When their minds are set upon their 
lusts, they will have them whatever they cost. But Little-Faith was of another temper : 
his mind was on things divine ; his livelihood was upon things that were spiritual and 
from above: therefore to what end should he that is of such a temper sell his jewels 
(had there been any that would have bought them), to fill his mind with empty things ? 
Will a man give a penny to fill his belly with hay ? or can you persuade the turtle- 
dove to live upon carrion, like the crow? Though faithless ones can, for carnal lusts, 
pawn, or mortgage, or sell what they have, and themselves outright to boot, yet they 
that have faith, saving faith, though but a little of it, cannot do so. Here, therefore, 
my brother, is thy mistake. 

Hope. I acknowledge it ; but yet j'our severe reflection had almost made me angry. 

Chris. Why, I did but compare thee to some of the birds that are of the brisker 
sort, who will run to and fro in untrodden paths with the shell upon their heads ; but 
pass by that, and consider the matter under debate, and all shall be well betwixt thee 
and me. 

Hope. But, Christian, these three fellows, I am persuaded in my heart, are but a 
company of cowards : would they have run else, think you, as they did at the noise of 
one that was coming on the road ? Why did not Little-Faith pluck up a greater 
heart? He might, methinks, have stood one brush with them, and have yielded when 
there had been no remedy. 

Chris. That they are cowards many have said, but few have found it so in the time 
of trial. As for a great heart, Little-Faith had none ; and I perceive by thee, my 
brother, hadst thou been the man concerned, thou art but for a brush, and then to 
yield. And, verily, since this is the height of thy stomach now they are at a distance 
from us, should they appear to thee as they did to him, they might put thee to second 
thoughts. But consider again, they are but journeymen-thieves ; they serve under 
the king of the bottomless pit, who, if need be,, will come in to their aid himself, and 
his voice is as the roaring of a lion.'*' I myself have been engaged as this Little- 
Faith was, and I found it a terrible thing. These three villains set upon me ; and I 
beginning like a Christian to resist, they gave but a call, and in came their master. I 
would, as the saying is, have given my life for a penny, but that, as God would have 
it, I was clothed with armor of proof. Ay, and yet, though I was so harnessed, I 



144 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS. 

found it hard work to quit myself like a man. No man can tell what in that combat 
attends us, but he that hath been in the battle himself. 

Hope. Well, but they ran, you see, when they did but suppose that one Great-Grace 
was in the way. 

Chkis. True, they have often fled, both they and their master, when Great-Grace 
hath but appeared ; and no marvel, for he is the King's champion. But I trow you 
will put some difference between Little-Faith and the King's champion ? All the 
King's subjects are not His champions, nor can they when tried do such feats of war 
as he. Is it meet to think that a little child should handle Goliath as David did ? or 
that there should be the strength of an ox in a wren ? Some are strong, some are 
weak ; some have great faith, some have little : this man was one of the weak, and 
therefore he went to the wall. 

Hope. I would it had been Great-Grace for their sakes. 

Chris. If it had been he, he might have had his hands full ; for I must tell you that 
though Great-Grace is excellent good at his weapons, and has, and can, so long as he 
keeps them at sword's point, do well enough with them ; yet, if they get within him, 
even Faint-heart, Mistrust, or the other, it shall go hard but they will throw up his 
heels. And when a man is down, you know, what can he do ? 

Whoso looks well upon Great-Grace's fiace will see those scars and cuts there, that 
shall easily give demonstration of what I say. Yea, once I Iieard that he should say 
(and that when he was in the combat), " We despaired even of life." How did these 
sturdy rogues and their fellows make David groan, mourn, and roar ! Yea, Heman,'** 
and Hezekiah too, though champions in their days, were forced to bestir when by 
these assaulted ; and yet, notwithstanding, they had their coats soundly brushed by 
them. Peter, upon a time, would go try what he could do ; but though some do say 
of him that he is the prince of the apostles, they handled bim so that they made him 
at last afraid of a sorry girl. 

Besides, their king is at their whistle — he is never out of hearing ; and if at any 
time they be put to the worst, he, if possible, comes in to help them ; and of him it is 
said, " The sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold ; the spear, the dart, nor the 
habergeon. He esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as rotten wood. The arrow cannot 
make him flee ; sling-stones are turned with him into stubble. Darts are counted as 
stubble: he laugheth at the shaking of a spear." ''^ What can a man do in this case? 
It is true, if a man could at every turn have Job's horse, and had skill and courage 
to ride him, he might do notable things. For his neck is clothed with thunder. He 
will not be afraid as the grasshopper : " the glory of his nostrils is terrible. He paweth 



HOW PILGRIMS SHOULD MEET THE ROBBERS 145 

in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength : he goeth on to meet the armed men. He 
inocketh at fear, and is not affrighted, neither turneth he his back from the sword. 
The quiver rattleth against him, the glittering spear and the shield. He swalloweth 
the ground with fierceness and rage ; neither believeth he that it is the sound of the 
trumpet. He saith among the trumpets. Ha ! ha ! and he smelleth the battle afar off, 
the thunder of the captains, and the shouting." "® 

But for such footmen as thee and I are, let us never desire to meet with an enemy, 
nor vaunt as if we could do better, when we hear of others that have been foiled, nor 
be tickled at the thoughts of our manhood; for such commonly come by the worst 
when tried. Witness Peter, of whom I made mention before : he would swagger, ay, 
he would ; he would, as his vain mind prompted him to say, do better and stand more 
for his Master than all men ; but who so foiled and run down by those villains as he? 

AVhen, therefore, we hear that such robberies are done on the King's highway, two 
things become us to do. 

First, to go out harnessed, and to be sure to take a shield with us ; for it was for 
want of that, that he that laid so lustily at Leviathan could not make him yield; for, 
indeed, if that be wanting, he fears us not at all. Therefore he that had skill hath 
said, " Above all, take the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the 
fiery darts of the wicked." "' 

Secondly, it is good also that we desire of the King a convoy ; yea, that He will go 
with us Himself This made David rejoice when in the Valley of the Shadow of 
Death ; and Moses was rather for dying where he stood, than to go one step without 
his God.'** Oh, my brother, if He will but go along with us, what need we be afraid 
often thousands that shall set themselves against "us ? '^'^ But, without Him, the proud 
helpers fall under the slain.'*' 

I, for my part, have been in the fray before now ; and though (through the goodness 
of Him that is best) I am, as you see, alive, yet I cannot boast of my manhood. Glad 
shall I be if I meet with no more such brunts ; though I fear we are not got beyond 
all danger. However, since the lion and the bear have not as yet devoured, me, I hope 
God will also deliver us from the next uncircumcised Philistine. 

Then sang Christian : 

" Poor Little-Faith ! hast been among (lie thieves ? 
Wast robbed? Remember this : whoso believes 
And gets more faith, shall then a victor be 
Over ten thousand ; else, scarce over three." 

19 



146 THE PILGRBVS PROGRESS. 

So they went on, and Ignorance followed. They went then till they came at a place 
where they saw a way put itself into their way, and seemed withal to lie as straight as 
the way which they should go ; and here they knew not which of the two to take, for 
both seemed straight before them ; therefore here they stood still to consider. And, 
as they were thinking about the way, behold, a man, black of flesh, but covered with 
a very light robe, came to them, and asked them why they stood there. They 
answered they were going to the Celestial City, but knew not which of these ways to 
take. " Follow me," said the man ; " it is thither that I am going." So they followed 
him to the way that but now came into the road, which by degrees turned and turned 
them so from the city that they desired to go to, that, in a little time, their faces were 
turned away from it; yet they followed him. But by-and-bye, before they were aware, 
he led them both within the compass of a net, in which they were both so entangled 
that they knew not what to do ; and with that, the white robe fell off the black man's 
back. Then they saw where they were. Wherefore, there they lay crying some time, 
for they could not get themselves out. 

Chris. Then said Christian to his fellow, " Now do I see myself in an error. Did 
not the shepherds bid us beware of flatterers ? As is the saying of the Wise Man, so 
we have found it this day : ' A man that flattereth his neighbor, spreadeth a net at 
his feet.' " ''' 

Hope. They also gave us a note of directions about the way, for our more sure 
finding thereof; but therein we have also forgotten to read, and have not kept our- 
selves from the paths of the destroyer. Here David was wiser than we ; for saith he, 
" Concerning the works of men, by the word of thy lips I have kept me from the paths 
of the destroyer." '^'^ Thus they lay bewailing themselves in the net. At last they 
espied a Shining One coming towards them with a whip of small cord in his hand. 
When he was come to the place where they were, he asked them whence they came, 
and what they did there. They told him that they were poor pilgrims going to Zion, 
but were led out of their way by a black man clothed in white, " Who bid us," said 
they, " follow him, for he was going thither too." Then said he with the whip, " It is 
Flatterer, a false prophet, that hath transformed himself into an angel of light," "■' So 
he rent the net, and let the men out. Then said he to them, " Follow me, that I may 
set you in your way again." So he led them back to the way which they had left to 
follow the Flatterer. Then he asked them, saying, " Where did you lie the last night ? " 
They said, " With the shepherds upon the Delectable Mountains." He asked them 
then if they had not of those shepherds a note of direction for the way. They answered, 
" Yes." " But did you not," said he, " when you were at a stand, pluck out and read 



ATHEIST MET WITH. 147 

your note ? " They answered, " No." He asked them, " Why ? " They said they 
forgot. He asked them, moreover, if the shepherds did not bid them beware of the 
Flatterer. They answered, " Yes ; but we did not imagine," said they, " that this fine- 
spoken man had been he." "^ 

Then I saw in my dream, that he commanded them to lie down ; which when they 
did, he chastised them sore, to teach them the good way wherein they should walk ; "* 
and, as he chastised them, he said, " As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten ; be 
zealous, therefore, and repent." "" This done, he bid them go on their way, and take 
good heed to the other directions of the shepherds. So they thanked him for all his 
kindness, and went softly along the right way, singing : 

" Come hither, you that walk along the way, 
See how the iiilgiinis fare that go astray ; 
They catchM are in an entangling net, 
'Cause tliey good counsel lightly did forget ; 
'Tis true, they rescued were ; but yet, you see, 
They're scourged to boot: let this your caution be." 

Now, after awhile they perceived afar off, one coming softly and alone, all along the 
highway, to meet them. Then said Christian to his fellow, " Yonder is a man with 
his back towards Zion, and he is coming to meet us." 

Hope. I see him : let us take heed to ourselves, lest he should prove a flatterer 
also. 

So he drew nearer and nearer, and at last came up to them. His name was Atheist, 
and he asked them whither they were going. 

Chris. We are going to Mount Zion. 

Then Atheist fell into a very great laughter. 

Chris. What is the meaning of your laughter ? 

Atheist. I laugh to see what ignorant persons you are, to take upon yourselves so 
tedious a journey, and yet are like to have nothing but your travel for your pains. 

Chris. Why, man, do you think we shall not be received? 

Atheist. Received ! There is no such a place as you dream of in all this world. 

Chris. But there is in the world to come. 

Atheist. When I was at home in mine own country, I heard as you now affirm, 
and, from that hearing, went out to see, and have been seeking this city these twenty 
years, but find no more of it than I did the first day I set out."' 

Chris. We have both heard and believe that there is such a place to be found. 

Atheist. Had not I, when at home, believed, I had not come thus far to seek ; but, 



199 
200 



148 THE I'lLGRLWS PROGRESS. 

finding none (and yet I should had there been such a place to be found, for I have 
gone to seek it farther than yoii'l, I ain going back again, and will seek to refresh myself 
■with the things that I then cast away for hopes of that which I now see is not. 

Chris. Then said Christi-ui to Hopeful his fellow, "Is it true which this man hath 
eaid ? " 

Hope. Take heed ; he is one of the flatterers. Remember what it hath cost us 
once already for hearkening to such kind of fellows. What ! no Mount Ziou ? Did we 
not see from the Delectable Mountains the gate of the city ? Also, are we not now to 
walk by faith ?^°* Let us go on, lest the man with the whip overtake us again. You 
should have taught me that lesson, which I will round you in the .ears withal : " Cease, 
my son, to hear the instruction that causeth to err from the words of knowledge." 
I say, my brother, cease to hear him, and let us believe to the saving of the soul 

Chris. My brother, I did not put the question to thee for that I doubted of the 
truth of our belief myself, but to prove thee, and to fetch from thee a fruit of the 
honesty of thy heart. As for this man, I know that he is blinded by the god of this 
world. Let thee and I go on, knowing that we have belief of the truth, and no lie is 
of the truth.-"' 

Hope. Now do I rejoice in ho]x- of the glory of God. 

So they turned away from the man, and he, laughing at them, went his way. 

I then saw in my dream that tliey went till they came into a certain country, whose 
air naturally tended to make one drowsy if he came a stranger into it. And here 
Hopeful began to be very dull and heavy of sleep; wherefore he said unto Christian, 
" I do now begin to grow so drowsy, that I can scarcely hold up mine eyes ; let us lie 
down here, and take one nap." 

Chris. " By no means," said the other, " lest, sleeping, we never awake more." 

Hope. Why, my brothci' ? sleep is sweet to the laboring man : we may be refreshed 
if we take a nap. 

Chris. Do not you remember that one of the shepherds bid us beware of the En- 
chanted Ground ? He meant by that that we should beware of sleeping ; wherefore 
let us not sleep as do others, but let us watch and be sober.^''^ 

Hope. I acknowledge myself in fault ; and had 1 been here alone, I had, by sleeping, 
run the danger of death. I see it is true that the Wise Man saith, " Two are Ix'tttr 
than one." '-"' Hitherto hath thy company been my mercy ; and thou shalt have a 
good reward for thy labor. 

Chris. " Now, then," said Christian, " to prevent drowsiness in this i^lace, let us fall 
in'o good discourse." 




Atheist Laughixg at Christian and Hopeful. 

"Theu Atheist fell into a very great laughter." 



(149) 



150 THE PILGRBVS PROGRESS. 

Hope. "With all my heart," said the other. 

Chris. Where shall we begin ? 

Hope. Where God began with us. But do you begin, if you please. 

Chris. I will sing you first this song : 

"When saints do sleepy grow, let them come hither, 
And hear how these two pilgrims talk together ; 
Yea, let them learn of them, in any wise, 
Thus to keep ope their drowsy, slumbering eyes. 
Saints' fellowship, if it be managed well, 
Keeps them awake, and that in spite of hell." 

Chris. Then Christian began, and said, " I will ask you a question. How came 
you to think at first of doing as you do now ? " 

Hope. Do you mean, how came I at first to look after the good of my soul? 

Chris. Yes, that is my meaning. 

Hope. I continued a great while in the delight of those things which were seen and 
sold at our fair ; things which I believe now would have, had I continued in them 
still, drowned me in perdition and destruction. 

Chris. What things were they ? 

Hope. All the treasures and riches of the world. Also I delighted much in rioting, 
revelling, drinking, swearing, lying, uncleanness. Sabbath-breaking, and what not, that 
tended to destroy the soul. But I found at last, by hearing and considering of things 
that are divine, which indeed I heard of you, as also of beloved Faithful, that was put 
to death for his faith and good living in Vanity Fair, that the end of-^'these things is 
death ; '^^ and that, for these things' sake, the wrath of God cometh upon the children 
of disobedience.^*^ 

Chris. And did you presently fall under the power of this conviction ? 

Hope. No ; I was not willing presently to know the evil of sin, nor the damnation 
that foUowSi upon the commission of it ; but endeavored, when my mind at first began 
to be shaken with the Word, to shut mine eyes against the light thereof. 

Chris. But what was the cause of your carrying of it thus to the first workings of 
God's blessed Spirit upon you ? 

Hope. The causes were, — Firstly, I was ignorant that this was the work of God 
upon me. I never thought that, by awakenings for sin, God at first begins the con- 
version of a sinner. Secondly, Sin was yet very sweet to my flesh, and I was loth to 
leave it. Thirdly, I could not tell how to part with mine old companions, tlieir 
presence and actions were so desirable unto me. Fourthly, The hours in which con- 



HOPEFUL NARRA TES HIS CONVERSION. 161 

victions were upon me, were such troublesome and such heart-affrighting hours, that 
I could not bear, no, not so much as the remembrance of them upon my heart. 

Cheis. Then, as it seems, sometimes you got rid of your trouble ? 

Hope. Yes, verily, but it would come into my mind again, and then I should be as 
bad, nay, worse than I was before. 

Chris. Why, what was it that brought your sins to mind again ? 

Hope. Many things ; as, 

1. If I did but meet a good man in the streets ; or, 

2. If I have heard any read in the Bible ; or, 

3. If mine head did begin to ache ; or, 

4. If I were told that some of my neighbors were sick ; or, 

5. If I heard the bell toll for some that were dead ; or, 

6. If I thought of dying myself ; or, 

7. If I heard that sudden death happened to others ; 

8. But especially when I thought of myself that I must quickly come to judg- 
ment. 

Chris. And could you at any time with ease get off the guilt of sin, when by any of 
these ways it came upon you ? 

Hope. No, not I ; for then they got faster hold of my conscience ; and then, if I 
did but think of going back to sin (though my mind was turned against it), it would 
be double torment to me. 

Chris. And how did you do then ? 

Hope. I thought I must endeavor to mend my life ; for else, thought I, I am sure 
to be damned. 

Chris. And did you endeavor to mend ? 

Hope. Yes, and fled from not only my sins, but sinful company too, and betook me 
to religious duties, as praying, reading, weeping for sin, speaking truth to my neigh- 
bors, etc. These things did I, with many others, too much here to relate. 

Chris. And did you think yourself well then ? 

Hope. Yes, for a while ; but, at the last, ray trouble came tumbling upon me again, 
and that over the neck of all my reformations. 

Chris. How came that about, since you were now reformed ? 

Hope. There were several things brought it upon me ; especially such sayings as 
these : " All our righteousness are as filthy rags ;" ^ " By the works of the law shall 
no flesh be justified ;" -"'' " When ye shall have done all those things which are com- 
manded you, say, We are unprofitable ;" ""** with many more such like. From whence I 



152 



THE I'lLGRBPS PROGRESS. 



began to reason with myself thus : If a// my righteousness are filthy rags, if by the deeds 
of the law no man can be justified, and if, when we have done all, we are yet unprofit- 
.able, then it is but a folly to think of heaven by the law. I further thought thus: 
If a man runs a hundred pounds into the shopkeeper's debt, and after that shall pay 
for all that he shall fetch; yet his old debt stands still in the book uncrossed ; for the 
which the shopkeeper may sue him, and cast him into prison till he shall pay the debt. 
Cheis. Well, and how did you apply this to yourself? 

Hope. Why, I thought thus with myself: I have by my sins run a great way into 

God's book, and my now reforming will not 
pay off that score. Therefore I should think 
still, under all my present amendments. But 
how shall I be freed from that damnation that 
I have brought myself in danger of by my 
former transgressions ? 

Chris. A very good ap^jlication ; but pray 
go on. 

Hope. Another thing that hath troubled 
me ever since my late amendment is, that if I 
look narrowly into the best of what I do now, 
I still see sin, new sin, mixing itself with the 
best of that I do ; so that now I am forced to 
conclude that, notwithstanding my former 
fond conceits of myself and duties, I have 
committed sin enough in one duty to send me 
to hell, though my former life had been 
faultless. 

Chris. And what did you do then ? 
Hope. Do ! I could not tell what to do, till 
I brake my tnind to Faithful ; for he and I were well acquainted. And he told me, 
that unless I could obtain the righteousness of a Man that never had sinned, neither 
mine own nor all the righteousness of the world could save me. 
Chris. And did you think he spake true ? 

Hope. Had he told me so when I was pleased and satisfied with mine own amend- 
ment, I had called him fool for his pains ; but now, since I see mine own infirmity, 
and the sin which cleaves to my best performance, I have been forced to be of his 
opinion. 




" He said, No, for I was invited to come." 



HOPEFUL NARRATES HIS CONVERSION. 153 

Chkis. But did you think, when at first he suggested it to you, that there was such 
a Man to be found, of whom it might justly be said that He never committed sin? 

Hope. I must confess the words at first sounded strangely ; but after a little more 
talk and company with him I had full conviction about it. 

Chris. And did you ask him what Man this was, and how you must be justified by 
Him? 

Hope. Yes, and he told me it was the Lord Jesus, that dwelleth on the right hand of 
the Most High.^"" And thus, said he, you must be justified by Him, even by trusting 
what He hath done by Himself in the days of His flesh, and suffered when He did 
hang on the tree.^^" I asked him further, How that Man's righteousness could be of 
that efficacy to justify another before God ? And he told me He was the mighty God, 
and did what He did, and died the death also, not for Himself, but for me ; to whom 
His doings, and the worthiness of them, should be imputed, if I believed on Him. 

Chris. And what did you do then ? 

Hope. I made my objections against my believing, for that I thought He was not 
willing to save me. 

Chris. And what said Faithful to you then ? 

Hope. He bid me go to Him and see. Then I said it was presumption. But he 
said, No, for I was invited to corae.'^" Then he gave me a book of Jesus' inditing to 
encourage me the more freely to come ; and he said concerning that book, that every 
jot and tittle thereof stood firmer than heaven and earth.'^'" Then I asked him what I 
must do when I came ; and he told me I must entreat on my knees,"" with all my 
heart and soul,^" the Father to reveal Him to me. Then I asked him further how I 
must make my supplication to Him ; and he said, Go, and thou shalt find Him upon a 
mercy-seat, where He sits all the year long to give pardon and forgiveness to them 
that come. I told him that I knew not what to say when I came ; and he bid me 
say to this effect : God be merciful to me a sinner, and make me to know and believe 
in Jesus Christ ; for I see that if His righteousness had not been, or I have not faith 
in that righteousness, I am utterly cast away. Lord, I have heard that Thou art a 
merciful God, and hast ordained that Thy Son Jesus Christ should be the Saviour of 
the world ; and, moreover, that Thou art willing to bestow Him upon such a poor 
sinner as I am. And I am a sinner indeed. Lord, take therefore this opjiortunity, 
and magnify Thy grace in the salvation of my soul, through Thy Son Jesus Christ. 
Amen.-" 

Chris. And did you do as you were bidden ? 

Hope. Yes, over, and over, and over. 

20 



154 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Chris. And did the Father reveal His son to you ? 

Hope. Not at the first, nor second, nor third, nor fourth, nor fifth ; no, nor at the 
sixth time neither. 

Chris. What did you do then ? 

Hope. What ! why, I could not tell what to do. 

Chris. Had you no thoughts of leaving off praying ? 

Hope. Yes ; a hundred times twice told. 

Chris. And what was the reason you did not ? 

Hope. I believed that that was true which had been told me ; to wit, that without 
the righteousness of this Christ, all the world could not save me ; and therefore, 
thought I with myself, if I leave off I die, and I can but die at the throne of grace. 
And withal, this came into my mind : " Though it tarry, wait for it ; because it will 
surely come, it will not tarry." ^^® So I continued praying, until the Father showed me 
His Son. 

Chris. And how was He revealed unto you ? 

Hope. I did not see Him with my bodily eyes, but with the eyes of mine under- 
standing,^" and thus it was : One day I was very sad, I think sadder than at any one 
time in my life ; and this sadness was through a fresh sight of the greatness and vile- 
ness of my sins. And, as I was then looking for nothing but hell and the everlasting 
damnation of my soul, suddenly, as I thought, I saw the Lord Jesus look down from 
heaven upon me, and saying, " Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be 
saved." "« 

But I replied, " Lord, I am a great, a very great sinner." And He answered, " My 
grace is sufficient for thee,""'' Then I said, "But, Lord, what is believing." And 
then I saw from that saying, " He that cometh to me shall never hunger, and he that 
believeth on me shall never thirst,"^"" that believing and coming was all one ; and that 
he that came, that is, ran out in his heart and affections after salvation by Christ, he 
indeed believed in Christ. Then the water stood in mine eyes, and I asked further, 
" But, Lord, may such a great sinner as I am be indeed accepted of Thee, and be saved 
by Thee ? " and I heard Him say, " And him that cometh to me I will in no wise 
cast out." ^" Then I said, " But how Lord, must I consider of Thee in my coming to 
Thee, that my faith may be placed aright upon Thee ? " Then he said, " Christ Jesus 
came into the world to save sinners."^ He is the end of the law for righteousness to 
every one that believes ^^ He died for our sins, and rose again for our justification.^^'' 
He loved us, and washed us from our sins in His own blood."^^ He is Mediator between 
God and us.^^* He ever liveth to make intercession for us." ^ From all which I 



THEY AGAIN TALK WITH IGNORANCE. 155 

gathered that I must look for righteousness in His person, and for satisfaction for my 
sins by His blood ; that what He did in obedience to His Father's law, and in sub- 
mitting to the penalty thereof, was not for Himself, but for him that will accept it for 
his salvation, and be thankful. And now was my heart full of joy, mine eyes full of 
tears, and mine affections running over with love to the name, people, and ways of 
Jesus Christ. 

Chris. This was a revelation of Christ to your soul indeed. But tell me particu- 
larly what effect this had upon your spirit. 

Hope. It made me see that all the world, notwithstanding all the righteousness 
thereof, is in a state of condemnation. It made me see that God the Father, though 
He be just, can justly justify the coming sinner. It made me greatly ashamed of the 
vileness of my former life, and confounded me with the sense of my own ignorance ; 
for there never came thought into my heart before now, that showed me so the beauty 
of Jesus Christ. It made me love a holy life, and long to do something for the honor 
and glory of the name of the Lord Jesus. Yea, I thought that had I now a thousand 
gallons of blood in my body, I could spill it all for the sake of the Lord Jesus. 



CHAPTER X. 



SAW then in my dream that Hopeful looked back, and saw Ignorance, whom 
they had left behind, coming after. " Look," said he to Christian, " how far 
yonder youngster loitereth behind." 
Chris. Ay, ay, I see him : he careth not for our company. 

Hope. But I trow it would not have hurt him, had he kept pace with us hitherto. 
Chris. That is true ; but I warrant you he thinks otherwise. 
Hope. That I think he doth ; but, however, let us tarry for him. So they did. 
Chris. Then Christian said to him, " Come away, man ; why do you stay so 
behind ? " 

Ignor. I take my pleasure in walking alone, even more a great deal than in com- 
pany, unless I like it the better. 

Then said Christian to Hopeful (but softly), "Did I not tell you he cared not for 
our company ? But, however," said he, " come up, and let us talk away the time in 



156 



THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 



this solitary place." Then, directing his speech to Ignorance, he said, " Come, how do 
you ? How stands it between God and your soul now ? " 

Ignor. I hope well ; for I am always full of good motions, that come into ray mind 
to comfort me as I walk. 

Chris. What good motions? pray tell us. 

Ignor. Why, I think of God and heaven. 

Chris. So do the devils and damned souls. 

Ignor. But I think of them and desire them. 

Chris. So do many that are never like to come there. " The soul of the sluggard 

desireth and hath nothing.""** 

Ignor. But I think of them, and leave all 
for them. 

Chris. That I doubt, for leaving of all is a 
very hard matter ; yea, a harder matter than 
many are aware of But why, or by what, 
art thou persuaded that thou hast left all for 
God and heaven ? 

Ignor. My heart tells me so. 
Chris. The Wise INIan says, " He that 
trusteth in his own heart is a fool." '^-^ 

Ignor. This is spoken of an evil heart; 
but- mine is a good one. 

Chris. But how dost thou prove that ? 
loNOR. It comforts me in the hopes of 
heaven. 

Chris. That may be through its deceitful- 
ness ; for a man's heart may minister comfort 
to him in the hopes of that thing for which 
he has yet no ground to hope. 
Ignor. But my heart and life agree together ; and therefore my hope is well grounded. 
Chris. Who told thee that thy heart and life agree together ? 
Ignor. My heart tells me so. 

Chris. Ask my fellow if I be a thief! Thy heart tells thee so ! Except the Word 
of God beareth witness in this matter, other testimony is of no value. 

Ignor. But is it not a good heart that hath good thoughts ? and is not that a good 
life that is according to God's commandments? 




" I am always full of good motions." 



THE FAITH OF IGNORANCE. 157 

Chkis. Yes, that is a good heart that hath good thoughts, and that is a good life 
that is according to God's commandments; but it is one thing, indeed, to have these, 
and another thing only to think so. 

Ignor. Pray, what count you good thoughts, and a life according to God's com- 
mandments ? 

Chris. There are good thoughts of divers kinds : some respecting ourselves, some 
God, some Christ, and some other things. 

Ignor. What be good thoughts respecting ourselves ? 

Chris. Such as agree with the Word of God. 

Ignor. When do our thoughts of ourselves agree with the Word of God ? 

Chris. When we pass the same judgment upon ourselves which the Word passes. 
To explain myself; the Word of God saith of persons in a natural condition, "There 
is none righteous, there is none that doeth good." It saith also, that " every imagina- 
tion of the heart of man is only evil, and that continually." "'" And again, " The 
imagination of man's heart is evil from his youth." ^^^ Now, then, when we think thus 
of ourselves, having sense thereof, then are our thoughts good ones, because according 
to the Word of God. 

Ignor. I will never believe that my heart is thus bad. 

Chris. Therefore thou never hadst one good thought concerning thyself in tliy life. 
But let me go on. As the Word passeth judgment upon our heart, so it passeth a 
judgment upon our ways ; and when our thoughts of our hearts and ways agree with 
the judgment which the Word givetli of both, then are both good because agreeing 
thereto. 

Ignor. Make out your meaning. 

Chris. Why, the Word of God saith that man's ways are crooked waj^s, not good, 
but i^erverse ; it saith they are naturally out of the good way, that they have not 
known it.^^" Now, when a man thus thinketh of liis ways, I say, when he doth sensibly, 
and with heart-humiliation, thus think, then hath he good thoughts of his own ways, 
because his thoughts now agree with the judgment of the Word of God. 

Ignor. What are good thoughts concerning God ? 

Chris. Even as I have said concerning ourselves, when our thoughts of God do 
agree with what the Word saith of Him, and that is, when we think of His being and 
attributes as the Word hath taught ; of which I cannot now discourse at large ; but 
to speak of Him with reference to us : then have we right thoughts of God, when we 
think that He knows us better than we know ourselves, and can see sin in us when 
and where we can sec none in ourselves; when we think He knows our inmost 



158 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

thoughts, and that our heart, with all its depths, is always open unto His eyes ; also 
when we think that all our righteousness stinks in His nostrils, and that therefore He 
cannot abide to see us stand before Him in any confidence, even in all our best per- 
formances. 

Ignor. Do you think that I am such a fool as to think God can see no farther than 
I ? or that I would come to God in the best of my performances ? 

Chkis. Why, how dost thou think in this matter ? 

Ignor. Why, to be short, I think I must believe in Christ for justification. 

Chris. How ! think thou must believe in Christ, when thou seest not thy need of 
Him ! Thou neither seest thy original nor actual infirmities ; but hast such an opinion 
of thyself, and of what thou dost, as plainly renders thee to be one that did never see 
a necessity of Christ's personal righteousness to justify thee before God. How, then, 
dost thou say, " I believe in Christ ? " 

Ignor. I believe well enough, for all that. 

Chris. How dost thou believe ? 

Ignor. I believe that Christ died for sinners; and that I shall be justified before 
God from the curse, through His gracious acceptance of my obedience to His law. 
Or thus : Christ makes my duties that are religious acceptable to His Father, by virtue 
of His merits, and so shall I be justified. 

Chris. Let me give an answer to this confession of thy faith. 

1. Thou believest with a fantastical faith ; for this faith is nowhere described in the 
Word. 

2. Thou believest with a false faith, because it taketh justification from the personal 
righteousness of Christ, and applies it to thy own. 

3. This faith maketh not Christ a justifier of thy person, but of thy actions, and of 
thy person for thy actions' sake, which is false. 

4. 'Iherefore this faith is deceitful, even such as will leave thee under wrath in the 
day of God Almighty; for true justifying faith puts the soul, as sensible of its lost 
condition by the law, upon flying for refuge unto Christ's righteousness (wnich 
righteousness of His is not an act of grace, by which He maketh, for justification, thy 
obedience accepted with God, but His personal obedience to the law, in doing and 
suffering for us what that required at our hands) ; this righteousness, I say, true faith 
accepteth ; under the skirt of which the soul being shrouded, and by it presented as 
spotless before God, it is accepted, and acquit from condemnation. 

Ignor. What ! would you have us trust to what Christ in his own person has done 
without us ? This conceit would loosen the reins of our lusts, and tolerate us Ui live 



IGNORANCE FALLS BEHIND. 159 

as we list ; for what matter how we live, if we may be justified by Christ's personal 
righteousness from all when we believe it ? 

Chris. Ignorance is thy name, and as thy name is, so art thou ; even this thy 
answer demonstrateth what I say. Ignorant thou art of what justifying righteousness 
is, and as ignorant how to secure thy soul, through the faith of it, from the heavy 
wrath of God. Yea, thou also art ignorant of the true effects of saving faith in this 
righteousness of Christ, which is, to bow and win over the heart to God in Christ, to 
love his name, His Word, ways and people, and not as thou ignorantly imaginest. 

Hope. Ask him if ever he had Christ revealed to him from heaven. 

Ignor. What ! you are a man for revelations ! I believe that what both y(Hi and 
all the rest of you say about that matter is but the fruit of distracted brains. 

Hope. Why, man ! Christ is so hid in God from the natural apprehensions of the 
flesh, that He cannot by any men be savingly known, unless God the Father reveals 
Him to them. 

Ignor. That is your faith, but not mine ; yet mine, I doubt not, is as good as yours, 
though I have not in my head so many whimsies as you. 

Chris. Give me leave to put in a word. You ought not so slightly to speak of this 
matter ; for this I will boldly affirm, even as my good companion hath done, that no 
man can know Jesus Christ but by the revelation of the Father ; yea, and faith too, 
by which the soul layeth hold upon Christ, if it be right, must be wrought by the 
exceeding greatness of His mighty power i^** the working of which faith, I perceive, 
poor Ignorance, thou art ignorant of. Be awakened, then ; see thine own wretchedness 
and fly to the Lord Jesus ; and, by His righteousness, which is the righteousness of 
God (for He Himself is God), thou shalt be delivered from condemnation. 

Ignor. You go so fast, I cannot keep pace with you. Do you go on before : I must 
stay awhile behind. 

Then they said : 

"Well, Ignorance, wilt thou yet foolish be, 
To slight good counsel, ten times given thee? 
And if thou yet refuse it, thou shalt know, 
Ere long, the evil of thy doing so. 
Remember, man, in time ; stoop, do not fear ; 
Good counsel, taken well, saves ; therefore hear : 
But, if thou yet shalt slight it, thou wilt be 
The loser. Ignorance, I'll warrant thee." 

Then Christian addressed himself thus to his fellow : 

Chris. Well, come, my good Hopeful ; I perceive that thou and I must walk by 
ourselves again. 



160 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

So I saw in my dream that they went on apace before, and Ignorance he came 
hobbling after. Then said Christian to his companion, " It pities me much for this 
poor man : it will certainly go ill with him at last." 

Hope. Alas ! there are abundance in our town in his condition, whole families, yea, 
whole streets, and that of pilgrims, too ; and if there be so many in our parts, how 
many, think you, must there be in the place where he was born ? 

Chris. Indeed, the Word saith, " He hath blinded their eyes, lest they should see," 
etc. But now we are by ourselves, what do you think of such men ? Have they at 
no time, think you, convictions of sin, and so, consequently, fears that their state is 
dangerous ? 

Hope. Nay, do you answer that question yourself, for you are the elder man. 

Chris. Then, I say, sometimes, as I think, they may ; but they being naturally 
ignorant, understand not that such convictions tend to their good ; and therefore they 
do desperately seek to stifle them, and presumptuously continue to flatter themselves 
in the way of their own hearts. 

Hope. I do believe, as you say, that fear tends much to men's good, and to make 
them right at their beginning to go on pilgrimage. 

Chris. Without all doubt it doth, if it be right ; for so says the Word : " The fear 
of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom." "^ 

Hope. How will you describe right fear ? 

Chris. True or right fear is discovered by three things : 

1. By its rise : it is caused by saving convictions for sin. 

2. It driveth the soul to lay fast hold of Christ for salvation. 

3. It begetteth and continueth in the soul a great reverence of God, His Word and 
Avays ; keeping it tender, and making it afraid to turn from them, to the right hand or 
to the left, to anything that may dishonor God, break its peace, grieve the Spirit, or 
cause the enemy to speak reproachfully. 

Hope. Well said ; I believe you have said the truth. Are we now almost got past 
the Enchanted Ground ? 

Chris. Why, art thou weary of this discourse ? 

Hope. No, verily ; but that I would know where we are. 

Chris. We have not now above two miles farther to go thereon. But let us return 
to our matter. Now, the ignorant know not that such convictions as tend to put them 
in fear are for their good, and therefore they seek to stifle them. 

Hope. How do they seek to stifle them ? 

Chris. 1. They think that those fears are wrought by the devil (though indeed 



THE REASON OF BACKSLIDING. 161 

they are wrought of God) ; and, thinking so, they resist them, as things that directly 
tend to their overthrow. 2. They also think that these fears tend to the spoiling of 
their faith ; when, alas for them, poor men that they are ! they have none at all ; and 
therefore they harden their hearts against them. 3. They presume they ought not to 
fear, and therefore, in despite of them, wax presumptuously confident. 4. They see 
that those fears tend to take away from them their pitiful old self-holiness, and there- 
fore they resist them with all their might. 

Hope. I know something of this myself; for, before I knew myself, it was so with 
me. 

Chris. Well, we will leave at this time our neighbor Ignorance by himself, and 
fall upon another profitable question. 

Hope. With all my heart ; but you shall still begin. 

Chkis. Well, then, did you not know, about ten years ago, one Temporary in your 
parts, who was a forward man in religion then ? 

Hope. Know him ! yes ; he dwelt in Graceless, a town about two miles off of 
Honesty, and he dwelt next door to one Turnback. 

Chkis. Right, he dwelt under the same roof with him. Well, that man was much 
awakened once : I believe that then he had some sight of his sins, and of the wages 
that were due thereto. 

Hope. I am of your mind ; for (ray house not being above three miles from him) 
he would ofttimes come to me, and that with many tears. Truly, I pitied the man, 
and was not altogether without hope of him ; but one may see, it is not every one that 
cries " Lord ! Lord ! " 

Chris. He told me once that he was resolved to go on pilgrimage as we do now ; 
but all of a sudden he grew acquainted with one Save-self, and then he became a 
stranger to me. 

Hope. Now, since we are talking about him, let us a little inquire into the reason 
of the sudden backsliding of him and such others. 

Chris. It may be very profitable ; but do you begin. 

Hope. Well, then, there are, in my judgment, four reasons for it: 

1. Though the consciences of such men are awakened, yet their minds are not 
changed ; therefore, when the power of guilt weareth away, that which provoked them 
10 be religious ceaseth, wherefore they naturally turn to their old course again ; even 
as we see the dog that is sick of what he hath eaten, so long as his sickness prevails, 
he vomits and casts up all ; not that he doth this of a free mind (if we may say a dog 
has a mind) , but because it troubleth his stomach : but now, when his sickness is over, 

21 



162 THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 

and so his stomach is eased, his desire not being all alienated from his vomit, he turns 
him about, and licks up all ; and so it is true which is written, " The dog is turned to 
his own vomit again." ^ Thus, I say, being hot for heaven, by virtue only of the 
sense and fear of the torments of hell ; as their sense of hell and the fears of damna- 
tion chill and cool, so their desires for heaven and salvation cool also. So then it 
comes to pass, that, when their guilt and fear are gone, their desires for heaven and 
happiness die, and they return to their course again. 

2. Another reason is, they have slavish fears that do overmaster them : I speak now 
of the fears that they have of men; for "the fear of man bringeth a snare." ^'"^ So 
then, though they seem to be hot for heaven so long as the flames of hell are about 
their ears, yet, when that terror is a little over, they betake themselves to second 
thoughts ; namely, that it is good to be wise, and not to run (for they know not what) 
the hazard of losing all, or, at least, pf bringing themselves into unavoidable and 
unnecessary troubles ; and so they fall in with the world again. 

3. The shame that attends religion lies also as a block in their way : they are proud 
and haughty, and religion in tlieir eye is low and contemptible ; therefore, when they 
have lost their sense of hell and the wrath to come, they return again to their former 
course. 

4. Guilt, and to meditate terror, are grievous to them. They like not to see their 
misery before they come into it; though, perhaps, the sight of it first, if they loved 
not that sight, might make them fly whither the righteous fly and are safe. But, 
because they do, as I hinted before, even shun the thoughts of guilt and terror, there- 
fore, when once they are rid of their awakenings about the terrors and Avrath of God, 
they harden their hearts gladly, and choose such ways as will harden them more and 
more. 

Chris. You are pretty near the business ; for the bottom of all is for want of a 
change in their mind and will. And therefore they are but like the felon that standeth 
before the judge: he quakes and trembles, and seems to repent most heartily ; but the 
bottom of all is the fear of the halter ; not of any detestation of the offence, as is 
evident ; because, let but this man have his liberty, and he will be a thief, and so a 
rogue still ; whereas, if his mind was changed, he would be otherwise. 

Hope. Now I have showed you the reasons of their going back, do you show me 
the manner thereof. 

Chkis. So I will, willingly. 

1. They draw off their thoughts, all that they may, from the remembrance of God, 
death, and judgment to come. 



THE COUNTRY OF BEULAH. 163 

2. Then they cast off by degrees private duties, as closet prayer, curbing their lusts, 
watching, sorrow for sin, and the like. 

3. Then they shun the company of lively and warm Christians. 

4. After that they grow cold to public duty, as hearing, reading, godly conference, 
and the like. 

5. Then they begin to pick holes, as we say, in the coats of some of the godly, and 
that devilishly, that they may have a seeming color to throw religion (for the sake of 
some infirmity they have espied in them) behind their backs. 

6. Then they begin to adhere to, and associate themselves with, carnal, loose, and 
wanton men. 

7. Then they give way to carnal and wanton discourses in secret ; and glad are they 
if they can see such things in any that are counted honest, that they may the moi'e 
boldly do it through their example. 

8. After this, they begin to play with little sins openly. 

9. And then, being hardened, they show themselves as they are. Thus, being 
launched again into the gulf of misery, unless a miracle of grace prevent it, they ever- 
lastingly perish in their own deceivings. 



CHAPTER XL 




OW I saw in my dream, that by this time the pilgrims were got over the En- 
chanted Ground, and entering into the country of Beulah,'^^' whose air was 
^ very sweet and j^leasant : the way lying directly through it, they solaced them- 
selves there for a season. Yea, here they heard continually the singing of birds, 
and saw every day the flowers appear on the earth, and heard the voice of the turtle in 
the land. In this country the sun shineth night and day ; wherefore this was beyond 
the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and also out of the reach of Giant Despair ; neither 
could they from this place so much as see Doubting Castle. Here they were within 
sight of the City they were going to ; also here met them some of the inhabitants 
thereof; for in this land the Shining Ones commonly walked, because it was upon the 
borders of heaven. In this land also the contract between the bride and the bride- 
groom was renewed ; yea, here, " as the bridegroom rejoiceth over his bride so did their 



164 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

God rejoice over them." Here they had no want of corn and wine ; for in this place 
they met with abundance of what they had sought for in all their pilgrimage. Here 
they heard voices from out of the City, loud voices, saying, "Say ye to the daughter 
of Zion, Behold, thy salvation cometh ! Behold, His reward is with Him ! " Here 
all the inhabitants of the country called them " The holy people, and redeemed of the 
Lord," " sought out," etc. 

Now, as they walked in this land, they had more rejoicing than in parts more remote 
from the kingdom to which they were bound ; and drawing near to the City, they had 
yet a more perfect view thereof. It was builded of pearls and precious stones, also the 
streets thereof were jiaved with gold ; so that by reason of the natural glory of the 
City, and the reflection of the sunbeams upon it, Christian with desire fell sick ; Hopeful 
also had a fit or two of the same disease : wherefore here they lay by it awhile, crying 
out because of their pangs, " If you see my Beloved, tell Him that I am sick of love." 

But being a little strengthened, and better able to bear their sickness, they walked 
on their way, and came yet nearer and nearer, where were orchards, vineyards, and 
gardens, and their gates opened into the highway. Now, as they came up to these 
places, behold, the gardener stood in the way ; to whom the pilgrims said, " Whose 
goodly vineyards and gardens are these ? " He answered, " They are the King's, and 
are j^lanted here for His own delight, and also for the solace of pilgrims." So the 
gardener had them into the vineyards, and bid them refresh themselves with the 
dainties.^'* He also showed them there the King's walks, and the arbors where He 
delighted to be ; and here they tarried and slept. 

Now I beheld in my dream, that they talked more in their sleep at this time than 
ever they did in all their journey ; and being in a muse thereabout, the gardener said 
even to me, " Wherefore musest thou at the matter ? It is the nature of the fruit of 
the grapes of these vineyards to go down so sweetly as to cause the lips of them that 
are asleep to speak." 

So I saw, when they awoke they addressed themselves to go up to the City. But, 
as I said, the reflection of the sun upon the City (for the City was pure gold) '^^ was 
so extremely glorious, that they could not, as yet, with open face behold it, but through 
an instrument made for that purpose.^'^ So I saw that, as they went on, there met 
them two men in raiment that shone like gold, also their faces shone as the light. 

These men asked the pilgrims whence they came ; and they told them. They also 
asked them where they had lodged, what diflficulties and dangers, what comforts and 
pleasures, they had met in the way ; and they told them. Then said the men that met 
them, " You have but two diflSculties more to meet with, and then you are in the City." 



CHRISTIAN'S DISTRESS OF MIND. 165 

Christian, then, and his companion, asked the men to go along with them ; so they 
told them that they would. " But," said they, " you must obtain it by your own faith. 
So I saw in my dream that they went on together till they came in sight of the gate. 

Now I further saw, that betwixt them and the gate was a river ; but there was no 
bridge to go over, and the river was very deep. At the sight, therefore, of this river, 
the pilgrims were much stunned ; but the men that went with them said, " You must 
go through, or you cannot come at the gate." 

The pilgrims then began to inquire if there was no other way to the gate ; to which 
they answered, " Yes ; but there hath not any save two, to wit, Enoch and Elijah, been 
permitted to tread that jiath since the foundation of the world, nor shall until the last 
trumpet shall sound." The pilgrims then, especially Christian, began to despond 
in his mind, and looked this way and that ; but no way could be found by them by 
which they might escape the river. Then they asked the men if the waters were all 
of a depth. They said, " No ;" yet they could not help them in that case ; " for," 
said they, "you shall find it deeper or shallower as you believe in the King of the 
place." 

They then addressed themselves to the water ; and, entering. Christian began to 
sink, and crying out to his good friend Hopeful, he said, " I sink in deep waters ; the 
billows go over my head ; all His waves go over me. Selah." 

Then said the other, " Be of good cheer, my brother ; I feel the bottom, and it is 
good." Then said Christian, "Ah! my friend, the sorrows of death have compassed 
me about ; I shall not see the land that flows with milk and honey." And, with that, a 
great darkness and horror fell upon Christian, so that he could not see before him. 
Also here he in a great measui-e lost his senses, so that he could neither remember nor 
orderly talk of any of those sweet refreshments that he had met with in the way of his 
pilgrimage. But all the words that he spake still tended to discover that he had horror 
of mind, and heart-fears that he should die in that river, and never obtain entrance in 
at the gate. Here also, as they that stood by perceived, he was much in the trouble- 
some thoughts of the sins that he had committed, both since and before he began to be 
a pilgrim. It was also observed that he was troubled with apparitions of hobgoblins 
and evil spirits ; for ever and anon he would intimate so much by words. 

Hopeful, therefore, here had much ado to keep his brother's head above water ; yea, 
sometimes he would be quite gone down, and then, ere a while, he would rise up again 
half dead. Hopeful would also endeavor to comfort him, saying, " Brother, I see the 
gate, and men standing by to receive us ;" but Christian would answer, " It is you, it 
is you they wait for : you have been hopeful ever since I knew you." " And so have 



166 



THE PILGRLirS PROGRESS. 



you," said he to Christian. " Ah, brotlier," said he, " surely, if I were right, He would 
now arise to help me ; but for my sins Pie hath brought me into this snare, and hath 
left me." Then said Hopeful, " My brother, you have quite forgot the text where 
it is said of the wicked, 'There are no bands in their death, but their strength 
is firm ; they are not troubled as other men, neither are they plagued like other men.' ^^ 
These troubles and distresses that you go through in these waters are no sign that 
God hath forsaken you ; but are sent to try you, whether you will call to mind that 
which hitherto you have received of His goodness, and live upon Him in your dis- 
tresses." 

Then I saw in my dream tluit Christian was in a muse awhile. To whom also 

Hopeful added these words, " Be of good 
cheer, Jesus Christ maketh thee whole." 
And, with that. Christian brake out with a 
loud voice, " Oh, I see Him again ; and He 
tells me, ' When thou passest through the 
waters, I will be with thee ; and through the 
rivers, they shall not overflow thee.' " ^*' Then 
they both took courage ; and the enemy was, 
after that, as still as a stone, until they were 
gone over. Christian, therefore, presently 
found ground to stand upon ; and so it fol- 
lowed that the rest of the river was but shallow. 
Thus they got over. 

Now, upon the bank of the river, on the 
other side, they saw the two Shining Men 
again, who there waited for them. Wherefore, 
being come out of the river, they saluted 
them, saying, "We are ministering spirits, 
sent forth to minister for those that shall be 
heirs of salvation." Thus they went along towards the gate. Now, you must note 
that the City stood upon a mighty hill ; but the pilgrims went up that hill with ease, 
because they had these two men to lead them up by the arms ; also they had left their 
mortal garments behind them in tlie river; for though they went in with them, they 
came out without them. They therefore went up here with much agility and speed, 
though the foundation u[)on which the City was framed was higher than the clouds. 
They therefore went up through the regions of the air, sweetly talking as they went. 




' Tims they got over." 




Christian and Hopeful pass over the River of Death. 
" Cliristiaii brake out with a loud voice, ' Oh ! I see Him again.' " 



(167) 



168 THE PILGRBVS PROGRESS. 

being comforted because they had safely got over the river, and liad such glorious 
companions to attend them. 

The talk they had with the Shining Ones, was about the glory of the place ; who 
told them that the beauty and glory of it were inexpressible. " There," said they, " is 
the Mount Siou, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable company of angels, and the 
spirits of just men made perfect.^'*' You are going now," said they, " to the Paradise 
of God, wherein you shall see the tree of life, and eat of the never-fading fruits thereof; 
and when you come there, you shall have white robes given you, and your walk and 
talk shall be every day with the King, even all the days of eternity.^ There you shall 
not see again such things as you saw when you were in the lower region upon the 
earth ; to wit, sorrow, sickness, affliction, and death ; ' for the former things are passed 
away.' "^^^ You are going now to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, and to the prophets, 
men that God hath taken away from the evil to come, and that are now resting upon 
their beds, each one walking in his righteousness." The men then asked, " What 
must we do in the holy place? " To whom it was answered, " You must there receive 
the comfort of all your toil, and have joy for all your sorrow ; you must reap what you 
have sown, even the fruit of all your prayers, and tears, and sufferings for the King 
by the way.'^*'' In that place you must wear crowns of gold, and enjoy the perpetual 
sight and visions of the Holy One ; for there you shall see Him as He is."^' There also 
you shall serve Him continually with praise, with shouting and thanksgiving, whom 
you desired to serve in the world, though with much difficulty, because of the infirmity 
of your flesh. There your eyes shall be delighted with seeing and your ears with hear- 
ing the pleasant voice of the Mighty One. There you shall enjoy your friends again 
that are gone thither before you ; and there you shall with joy receive even every one 
that follows into the holy place after you. There also you shall be clothed with glory 
and majesty, and put into an equipage fit to ride out with the King of Glory. When 
He shall come with sound of trumpet in the clouds, as upon the wings of the wind, 
you shall come with Him ; and when He shall sit upon the throne of judgment, you 
shall sit by Him ; yea, and when He shall pass sentence upon all the workers of 
iniquity, let them be angels or men, you also shall have a voice in that judgment, 
because they were His and your enemies. Also, when He shall again return to the 
City, you shall go too, with sound of trumpet, and be ever with Him." ^** 

Now, while they were thus drawing towards the gate, behold, a company of the 
heavenly host came out to meet them ; to whom it was said by the other two Shining 
Ones, "These are the men that have loved our Lord when in the world, and that have 
left all for His holy name ; and He hath sent us to fetch them, and we have brought 



■>-iS<»«S?S3>'fSS8!Sjr 



.,**«f^' 



v/ 



^ 




CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL HEACH THE CELESTIAL CITY 



THE CELESTIAL CITY. 



169 



them' thus far on their desired journey, that they may go in and look their Redeemer 
in the face with joy." Then the heavenly host gave a great shout, saying, " Blessed 
are tliey which are called to the marriage supper of the Lamb.""^° There came out 
also at this time to meet them several of the King's trumpeters, clothed in white and 
shining raiment, who, with melodious noises and loud, made even the heavens to 
echo with their sound. These trumpeters saluted Christian and his fellow with ten 
thousand welcomes from the world ; and this they did with shouting and sound of 
trumpet. 

This done, they compassed them round on every side ; some went before, some 
behind, and some on the right hand, some on 
the left (as it were to guard them through 
the upper regions), continually sounding as 
they went, with melodious noise, in notes 
on high : so that the very sight was to them 
that could behold it as if heaven itself was 
come down to meet them. Thus, therefore, 
they walked on together ; and, as they walked, 
ever and anon these trumpeters, even with 
joyful sound, would, by mixing their music, 
with looks and gestures, still signify to Chris- 
tian and his brother how welcome they were 
into their company, and with what gladness 
they came to meet them. And now were 
these two men as it were in heaven before 
they came at it, being swallowed up with the 
sight of angels, and with hearing of their me- 
lodious notes. Here also they had tiie City 
itself in view, and thought they heard all the 
bells therein to ring, and welcome them thereto. But, above all, the warm and joyful 
thoughts that they had about their own dwelling there with such company, and that 
for ever and ever, oh ! by what tongue or pen can their glorious joy be expressed ? 

And thus they came up to the gate. Now, when they were come up to the gate, 
there was written over it in letters of gold, " Blessed ake they that do His com- 
mandments, THAT THEY MAY HAVE RIGHT TO THE TREE OF LIFE, AND MAY ENTER IN 
THROUGH THE GATES INTO THE CITY." "'^ 

Then I saw in my dream, that the Shining Men bid them call at the gate : the 




" Oue of the King's trumputers.' 



170 THE PILGRIM'S PE OGRESS. 

vrhicli when they did, some from above looked over the gate, to wit, Enoch, Moses, 
and Elijah, etc., to whom it was said, " These pilgrims are come from the City of 
Destruction, for the love that they bear to the King of this place." And then the 
pilgrims gave in unto them each man his certificate, which they had received in the 
beginning ; those therefore were carried in to the King, who, when He had read them, 
said, " Where are the men ? " To whom it was answered, " They are standing without 
the gate." The King then commanded to open the gate, " that the righteous nation," 
said He, " which keepeth the truth, may enter in." ^^ 

Kow, I saw in my dream, that these two men went in at the gate ; and lo ! as they 
entered, they were transfigured ; and they had raiment put on that shone like gold. 
There were also that met them with harps and crowns, and gave them to them — ^the 
harps to praise withal, and the crowns in token of honor. Then I heard in my 
dream that all the bells in the City rang again for joy, and that it was said unto them, 
" Enter ye into the joy of your Lord." ^" I also heard the men themselves, that they 
sang with a loud voice, saying, " Blessing, and honor, and glory, and power, be unto 
Him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb, for ever and ever I " ^" 

Now, just as the gates were opened to let in the men, I looked in after them, and 
behold, the City shone like the sun ; the streets also were paved with gold ; and in 
them walked many men with crowns on their heads, palms in their hands, and golden 
harps to sing praises withal. 

There were also of them that had wings, and they answered one another without 
intermission, saying, " Holy, holy, holy is the Lord ! " ^ And, after that, they shut 
up the gates ; which when I had seen, I wished myself among them. 

Now while I was gazing upon all these things, I turned my head to look back, and 
saw Ignorance come up to the river-side ; but he soon got over, and that without half 
the difficulty which the other two men met with. For it happened that there was 
then in the place one Vain-Hope, a ferryman, that with his boat helped him over ; so 
he, as the others I saw, did ascend the hill, to come up to the gate ; only he came alone, 
neither did any Inan meet him with the least encouragement. When he was come up 
to the gate, he looked up to the writing that was above, and then began to knock, 
supposing that entrance should have been quickly administered to him : but he was 
asked by the men that looked over the top of the gate, " Whence came you ? and what 
would you have ? " He answered, " I have ate and drank in the presence of the King, 
and He has taught in our streets." Then they asked him for his certificate, that they 
might go in and show it to the King : so he fumbled in his bosom for one, and found 
none. Then said thev, " Have vou none ? " But the man answered never a word. 



172 



THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 



So they told the King; but He woukl not come down to see him, but commanded 
the two Shining Ones that conducted Cliristian and Hopeful to the City, to go out 
and take Ignorance, and bind him hand and foot, and have him away. Then they 
took him up, and carried him through the air to the door that I saw in the side of the 
hill, and put him in there. Then I saw that there was a way to hell, even from the 
gates of heaven, as well as from the City of Destruction ! 

So I awoke, and behold, it was a dream. 





CONCLUSION. 



OVV, reader, I have told my dream to thee, 
See if thou canst interpret it to me, 
Or to tiiyself or neighbor; but taixe heed 
Of misinterpreting ; for that, instead 
Of doing good, will but thyself abuse: 
By misinterpreting, evil ensues. 

Take heed also that thou be not extreme 
In playing with the outside of my dream ; 
Nor let my figure or similitude 
Put thee into a laughter or a feud. 
Leave this for boys and fools; but as for thee, 
Do thou the substance of my matter see. 

Put by the curtains, look within my veil ; 
Turn up my metaphors, and do not fail, 
There, if thou seekest them, suc^h things to find 
As will be helpful to an honest mind. 

What of my dross thou findest there, be bold 
To throw away ; but yet preserve the gold. 
What if my gold be wrapped up in ore ? — 
None throws away the apple for the core. 
But if thou shalt cast all away as vain, 
I know not but 't will make me dream again. 



END OF THE FIRST PART. 



(173) 



THE PILGEIM'8 PR0GEES8. 

PART II. 



(175) 





THE AUTHOR'S WAY 

OF SENDING FORTH HIS 

SECOND PART OF THE PILGRIM. 



^O now, luy little book, to every place 

Where ruy first Pilgrim has but shown his face; 
Call at their door : if any say " Who's there ? " 
Then answer thou, " Christiana is here." 
If they bid thee come in, then enter thou, 
With all thy boys; and then as thou know'st how. 
Tell who I hey are, also from whence they came — 
Perhaps they'll know them by their looks or name: 
But, if they should not, ask them yet again 
If formerly they did not entertain 
One Christian, a Pilgrim ? If they say 
They did, and were delighted in his way, 
Then let them know that those related were 
Unto him; yea, his wife and eiiildren are. 

Tel! them that they have left their house and home: 
Are turnetl Pilgrims; seek a world to come; 
That they have met with hardships in the way, 
That they do meet with troubles night and day ; 
That they have trod on serpents, fought with devils ; 
Have also overcome a many evils ; 
Yea, tell them also of the next who have, 
Of love to pilgrimage, been stout and brave 
Defenders of that way; and how they still 
Refusetl this world to do their Father's will. 
23 



(177) 



178 THE A UTHOR'S WA Y OF 

Go, tell them also of those dainty things 

That pilgrimage unto the Pilgrim brings. 

Let them acquainted be, too, how they are 

Beloved of their King, under His care; 

What goodly mansions for them He provides ; 

Though they meet with rough winds and swelling tides, 

How brave a calm they will enjoy at last, 

Who to the Lord, and by His ways, hold fast. 

Perhaps with heart and hand they will embrace 
Thee, as they did my firstling, and will grace 
Thee and thy fellows with such cheer and fare, 
As show will they of Pilgrims lovers are. 

OBJECTION I. 

But how if they will not believe of me 
That I am truly thine? 'Cause some there be 
That counterfeit the Pilgrim and his name ; 
Seek, by disguise, to seem the very same ; 
And by that means have wrought themselves into 
The hands and houses of I know not who. 

ANSWER. 

'Tis true, some have of late, to counterfeit 
My Pilgrim, to their own my title set ; 
Yea, others half my name and title too 
Have stitched to their book, to make them do ; 
But yet they, by their features, do declare 
Themselves not mine to be, whose e'er they are. 

If such thou meet'st with, then thine only way, 
Before them all, is to say out thy say 
In thine own native language, which no man 
Now useth, nor with ease dissemble can. 

If, after all, they still of you shall doubt, 
Thinking that you, like gypsies, go about 
In naughty-wise the country to defile, 
Or that you seek good people to beguile 
With things unwarrantable; — send for me. 
And I will testify you Pilgrims be; 
Yea, I will testify that only you 
My Pilgrims are; and that alone will do. 

OBJECTION II. 

But yet, perhaps, I may inquire for him 
I Of those that wish him damned, life and limb , 

What shall I do, when I at such a door 
For Pilgrims ask, and they shall rage the more? 



SENDING FORTH HIS SECOND PART. 179 

ANSWER. 

Fright not thyself, my book ; for such bugbears 
Are nothing else but ground for groundless fears. 
My Pilgrim's book has travelled sea and land, 
Yet could I never come to understand 
That it was slighted, or turned out of door, 
By any kingdom, were they rich or poor. 

In France and Flanders, where men kill each ether, 
My Pilgrim is esteemed a friend, a brother. 

In Holland, too, 'tis said, as I am told, 
My Pilgrim is, with some, worth more than gold. 
Highlanders and wild Iri-ih can agree 
My Pilgrim should familiar with them be. 

'Tis in New England under such advance, 
Receives there so much loving countenance. 
As to be trimmed, new clothed, and decked with gems, 
Tiiat it might show its features and its limbs. 
Yet more; so comely doth my Pilgrim walk. 
That of him thousands daily sing and talk. 

If you draw nearer home, it will appear 
My Pilgrim knows no ground of shame or fear. 
City and country will him entertain 
With, " Welcome Pilgrim !" yea, they can't refrain 
From smiling, if my Pilgrim be but by, 
Or shows his head in any company. 

Brave gallants do my Pilgrim hug and love ; 
Esteem it much ; yea, value it above 
Things of a greater bulk ; yea, with delight, 
Say, " My lark's leg is better tiian a kite." 

Young ladies and young gentlewomen, too. 
Do no small kindness to my Pilgrim show : 
Their cabinets, their bosoms, and their hearts 
My Pilgrim has; 'cause he to them imparts 
His pretty riddles in such wholesome strains. 
As yield them profit double to their j)ains 
Of reading ; yea, I think I may be bold 
To say, some prize him far above their gold. 

The very children that do walk the street, 
If they do but my holy Pilgrim meet. 
Salute him will; will wish him well, and say, 
He is the only stripling of the day. 

They that have never seen him, yet admire 
Whai they have heard of him, and much desire 
To have his company, and hear him tell 
Those Pilgrim stories which he knows so well. 

Yea, some who did not love him at the first. 
But called him fool and noddy, say they must, 



180 THE AUTHOR'S WAY OF 

Now they have seen and heard him, liirn commend; 
And to those whom tliey love they tlo liim send. 

Wherefore, my Second Part, thou need'st not he 
Afraid to show thy head ; none can hurt thee 
That wish but well to him that went before, 
'Cause thou coin'st after with a second store 
Of things as good, as rich, as profitable, 
For young, for old, for staggering, and for stable. 

OBJECTION III. 
But some there be that say, " He laughs too loud ; 
And some do say, " His head is in a cloud ; " 
Some say his words and stories are so dark. 
They know not how by them to find his mark. 

ANSWER. 

One may, I think, say, Both his laugns and cries 
May well be guessed at by his watery eyes. 
Some things are of that nature as to make 
One's fancy chuckle, while his heart doth ache. 
When Jacob saw his Rachel with the sheep. 
He did at the same time both kiss and weep. 

Whereas some say, " A cloud is in his head : " 
That doth but show how wisdom's covered 
With its own mantles, and to stir the mind 
To a search after what it fain would find. 
Things that seem to be hid in words obscure, 
Do but the godly mind the more allure 
To study wiiat those sayings should contain 
That speak to us in such a cloudy strain. 
I also know, a dark similitude 
Will on the fancy more itself intrude, 
And will stick faster in the heart and head. 
Than things from similes not borrowfed. 

Wherefore, my book, let no discouragement 
Hinder thy travels ; behold, thou art sent 
' To friends, not foes ; to friends that will give place 

To thee, my Pilgrims, and thy words embrace. 

Besides, what my first Pilgrim left concealed. 
Thou, my brave second Pilgrim, hast revealed ; 
What Christian left locked up, and went his way, 
Sweet Christiana opens with her key. 

OBJECTION IV. 
But some love not the method of your first : 
Romance they coinit it, — throw't away as dust. 
If I slioidd meet with such, what should I say ? 
Must I slight them as they slight me, or nay ? 



SENDING FORTH HIS SECOND PART. 181 

^ ANSWER. 

My Christiana, if with such thou meet, 
By ail meaus in all loving-wise them greet ; 
Render them not reviling for revile ; 
But if they frown, I prithee on tiiem smile. 
Perhaps 'tis nature, or some ill report. 
Has made them thus despise or thus retort. 

Some love no cheese, some love no fish, and some 
Love not their friends, nor their own house or home ; 
Some start at pig, slight chicken, love not fowl 
Morejthan they love a cuckoo or an owl. 
Leave such, my Christiana, to their choice, 
And seek those who to find thee will rejoice. 
By no means strive, but in all humble-wise 
Present thee to them in thy Pilgrim's guise. 

Go then, my little book, and show to all 
That entertain and bid thee welcome shall, 
What thou shalt keep close shut up from the rest ; 
And wish what thou shalt show tliem may lie blest 
To them for good — may make tliem choose to be 
Pilgrims better by far than thee or me. 

Go then, I say, tell all men who thou art; 
Say, I am Christiana, and my part 
Is now, with my four sons, to tell you what 
It is for men to take a Pilgrim's lot. 
Go, also tell them who and what they be 
That now do go on pilgrimage with thee : 
Say, " Here's my neighbor Mercy ; she is one 
That has long time with me a Pilgrim gone: 
Come, see her in her virgin face, and learn 
'Twixt idle ones and Pilgrims to discern ; 
Yea, let young damsels learn of her to prize 
The world which is to come, in any wise." 
When little tripping maidens follow God, 
And leave old doting sinners to His rod, 
'Tis like those days wherein the young ones cried 
" Hosanna ! " to whom old ones did deride. 

Next t-ell them of old Honest, whom you found. 
With his white hairs, treading the Pilgrims' ground. 
Yea, tell them how plain-hearted this man was ; 
How after his good Lord he bare his cross. 
Perhaps with some gray head this may prevail 
With Christ to fall in love, and sin bewail. 

Tell them also how Master Fearing went 
On pilgrimage, and how the time he spent 
In solitariness, with fears and cries; 
And how at last he won the joyful prize. 



182 THE AUTHOR'S WAV OF SENDING FORTH HIS SECOND PART 

He was a good man, though much down in spirit; 
He is a good man, and doth life inherit. 

Tell them of Master Feeble-mind also, 
Who not before, but still behind, would go; 
Show them also how he had like been slain, 
And how one Great-heart did his life regain. 
This man was true of heart, though weak in grace; 
One might true godliness read in his face. 

Then tell them of Master Eeady-to-hait, 
A man with crutches, but much without fault : 
Tell them how Master Feeble-mind and he ^ 

Did love, and in opinions much agree : 
And let all know, though weakness was their chance, 
Yet sometimes one could sing, the other dance. 

Forget not Master Valiant-for-the-truth, 
That man of courage, though a very youth. 
Tell every one his spirit was so stout. 
No man could ever make him face about ; 
And how Great-heart and he could not forbear, 
But put down Doubting Castle, slay Despair ! 
Overlook not Master Despondency, 
Nor Much-afraid, his daughter, though they lie 
Under such mantles as may make them look 
(With some) as if their God had them forsook. 
They softly went, but sure ; and, at the end, 
Found that the Lord of Pilgrims was their friend. 

When thou hast told the world of all these things, 
Then turn about, my book, and touch those strings 
Which, if but touched, will such music make. 
They'll make a cripple dance, a giant quake. 

These riddles that lie couched within thy breast, 
Freely propound, expound; and, for the rest 
Of thy mysterious lines, let them remain 
For those whose nimble fancies shall them gain. 

Now may this little book a blessing be 
To those who love this little book and me ; 
And may its buyer have no cause to say 
His money is but lost or thrown away ; 
Yea, may this second Pilgrim yield that fruit 
As may with each good pilgrim's fancy suit ; 
And may it some persuade that go astray. 
To turn their feet and heart to the right way, 

Is the hearty prayer of 

The Author, 

John Bunyan. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, PART II. 




CHAPTER I. 

Courteous Companions, — 

OME time since, to tell you my dream that I had of Christian the Pilgrim, and 
of his dangerous journey towards the Celestial Country, was pleasaut to me and 
profitable to you. I told you then, also, what I saw concerning his wife and 
children, and how unwilling they were to go with him on pilgrimage, insomuch 
that he was forced to go on his progress without them ; for he durst not run the danger 
of that destruction which he feared would come by staying with them in the City of 
Destruction ; wherefore, as I then showed you, he left them and departed. 

Now, it hath so happened, through the multiplicity of business, that I have been 
much hindered and kept back from my wonted travels into those parts whence he 
went, and so could not, till now, obtain an opportunity to make further inquiry after 
those whom he left behind, that I might give you an account of them. But, having 
had some concerns that way of late, I went down again thitherward. Now, having 
taken up my lodgings in a wood about a mile off the place, as I slept I dreamed 
again. 

And as I was in my dream, behold, an aged gentleman came by where I lay ; and, 
because he was to go some part of the way that I was travelling, methought I got up 
and went with him. So, as we walked, and as travellers usually do, I was as if we fell 
into discourse ; and our talk happened to be about Christian and his travels ; for thus 
I began with the old man : 

" Sir," said I, " what town is that there below, that lieth on the left hand of our 
way ? " 

Then said Mr. Sagacity (for that was his name) , " It is the City of Destruction ; a 
populous place, but possessed witli a very ill-conditioned and idle sort of people." 

" I thought that was that city," quoth I : " I went once myself through that town, 
and therefore know that this report you give of it is true." 

(183) 



184 THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 

Sag. Too true ! I wish I could speak truth in speaking better of them that dwell 
therein. 

" Well, sir," quoth I, " then I perceive you to be a well-meaning man, and so one 
that takes pleasure to hear and tell of that which is good. Pray, did you never hear 
what happened to a man some time ago of this town (whose name was Christian), that 
went on pilgrimage up towards the higher regions ? " 

Sag. Hear of him ! Ay, and I also heard of the molestations, troubles, wars, cap- 
tivities, cries, groans, frights and fears that he met with and had in his journey. 
Besides, I must tell you all our country rings of him : there are but few houses that 
have heard of him and his doings but have sought after and got the record of his 
pilgrimage. Yea, I think I may say that his hazardous journey has got many well- 
wishers to his ways ; for though, when he was here, he was a fool in every man's 
mouth, yet now he is gone he is highly commended of all. For 't is said he lives 
bravely where he is : yea, many of them that are resolved never to run his hazards, 
yet have their mouths water at his gains. 

" They may," quoth I, " well think, if they think anything that is true, that he liveth 
well where he is ; for he now lives at and in the Fountain of Life, and has what he 
has without labor and sorrow ; for there is no grief mixed therewith. But, pray, what 
talk have the people about him ? " 

Sag. Talk ! the people talk strangely about him : some say that he now walks in 
white ; ^ that he has a chain of gold about his neck ; that he has a crown of gold beset 
with pearls upon his head. Others say that the Shining Ones, that sometimes showed 
themselves unto him in his journey, are become his companions, and that he is as 
familiar with them in the place where he is, as here one neighbor is with another. 
Besides, it is confidently affirmed concerning him, that the King of the place where 
he is has bestowed upon him already a very rich and pleasant dwelling at court,^ and 
that he every day eateth and drinketh, and walketh and talketh with Him, and 
receiveth of the smiles and favors of Him that is Judge of all there.^ Moreover, it is 
expected of some, that his Prince, the Lord of that country, will shortly come into 
these parts, and will know the reason, if they can give any, why his neighbors set so 
little by him and had him so much in derision, when they perceived that he would be a 
Pilgrim.* For they say, that now he is so in the affections of his Prince, and that his 
Sovereign is so much concerned with the indignities that were cast upon Christian 
when he became a Pilgrim, that He will look upon all as if done unto Himself;* 
and no marvel, for it was for the love that he had to his Prince that he ventured as 
he did. 




The Author and Mr. Sagacity. 

24 



(185) 



186 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



" I daresay," quoth I ; " I ain glad oii't ; I am glad for the })oor man's sake, for 
that he now has rest from his labor," and for that he reapeth the benefit of his tears 
with joy, and for that he has got beyond gunshot of his enemies, and is out of the 
reach of them that hate him.' I also am glad for that a rumor of these things is 
noised abroad in this country : who can tell but that it may work some good effect on 
some that are left behind? But pray, sir, while it is fresh in my mind, do you 
hear anything of his wife and children ? Poor hearts ! I wonder in my mind what 
they do." 

Sag. Who ? Christiana and her sons ? They are like to do as well as did 
Christian himself; for, though they all played the fool at first, and would by no 

means be persuaded by either the tears or 
entreaties of Christian, yet, second thoughts 
have wrought wonderfully with them, so they 
have packed up, and are also gone after 
him. 

" Better and better," quoth I ; " but, what ! 
wife and children and all ? " 

Sag. It is true : I can give you an account 
of the matter, for I was upon the spot at the 
instant, and was thoroughly acquainted with 
the whole affair. 

" Then," said I, " a man, it seems, may re- 
port it for a truth ? " 

Sag. You need not fear to affirm it. I 
mean, that they are all gone on pilgrimage, 
both the good woman and her four boys. 
And, being (we are, as I perceive) going 
some considerable way together, I will give 
you an account of the whole matter. 
This Christiana (for that was her name from the day that she, with her children, 
betook themselves to a pilgrim's life) after her husband had gone over the river, and 
she could hear of him no more, her thoughts began to work in her mind. First, for 
that she had lost her husband, and for that the loving bond of that relation was utterly 
broken betwixt them. For you know (said he to me) nature can do no less but enter- 
tain the living with many a heavy cogitation, in the remembrance of the loss of loving 
relations. This, therefore, of her husband, did cost her many a tear. But this was 




"Her thoughts began to work in her miud." 




Christiana opens her Mind to her Children. 

" Then said she to her children, ' Sons, we are all undone.' " 



(187) 



188 THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 

not all ; for Christiana did also begin to consider with herself, whether unbecoming 
behavior towards her husband was not one cause that she saw him no more, and that 
in such sort he was taken away from her. And, upon this, came into her mind, by 
swarms, all her unkind, unnatural, and ungodly carriages to her dear friend ; which 
also clogged her conscience, and did load her with guilt. She was, moreover, much 
broken with recalling to remembrance the restless groans, brinish tears, and self- 
beraoanings of her husband, and how she did harden her heart against all his 
entreaties and loving persuasions of her and her sons to go with him ; yea, there was 
not anything that Christian either said to her or did before her, all the while that his 
burden did hang on his back, but it returned upon her like a flash of lightning, and 
rent the caul of her heart in sunder. Specially that bitter outcry of his, " What shall 
I do to be saved ? " did ring in her ears most dolefully. 

Then said she to her children, " Sons, we are all undone. I have sinned away your 
father, and he is gone; he would have had us with him, but I would not go myself; 
I also have hindered you of life." 

With that, the boys fell all into tears, and cried out to go after their father. 

" Oh," said Christiana, " that it had been but our lot to go with him ! then had it 
fared well with us, beyond what it is like to do now. For though I formerly foolishly 
imagined, concerning the troubles of your father, that they j)roceeded of a foolish fancy 
that he had, or for that he was overrun with melancholy humors ; yet now it will 
not out of my mind but that they sprang from another cause ; to wit, for that the 
light of life was given him,** by the help of which, as I perceive, he has escaped the 
snares of death." 

Then they all wept again, and cried out, " Oh, woe worth the day ! " 

The next night Christiana had a dream ; and, behold, she saw as if a broad parch- 
ment were opened before her, in which were recorded the sum of her ways ; and the 
times, as she thought, looked very black upon her. Then she cried out aloud in her 
sleep, " Lord, have mercy upon me a sinner ? " ^ and the little children heard her. 

After this, she thought she saw two very ill-favored ones standing by her bed-side, 
and saying, " What shall we do with this woman ? for she cries out for mercy waking 
and sleeping : if she be suffered to go on as she begins, we shall lose her as we have 
lost her husband. Wherefore we must, by one way or other, seek to take her off from 
the thoughts of what shall be hereafter ; else, all the world cannot helji but she will 
become a pilgrim." 

Now she awoke in a great sweat ; also a trembling was upon her ; but after a 
while, she fell to sleejiing again. And then she thought she saw Christian her bus- 



CHRISTIANA IS SENT FOR. 18» 

band in a place of bliss, among many immortals, with a harp in his hand, standing and 
playing upon it before One that sat upon a throne, with a rainbow about His head. 

She saw, also, as if he bowed his head with his face to the paved work that was under 
the Prince's feet, saying, " I heartily thank my Lord and King for bringing of me into 
this place." Then shouted a company of them that stood round about, and harped 
with their harps; but no man living could tell what they said, but Christian and his 
companions. 

Next morning, wIkmi she was up, and had prayed to God and talked with her chil- 
dren a while, one knocked hard at the door ; to whom she spake out, saying, " If thou 
comest in God's name, come in." So he said, " Amen," and opened the door, and 
saluted her with " Peace be to this house ! " The which, when he had done, he said, 
" Christiana, knowest thou wherefore I am come ? " Then she blushed and trembled, 
also her heart began to wax warm with desires to know from whence he came, and 
what was his errand to her. So he said unto her, " My name is Secret : I dwell with 
those that are on high. It is talked of where I dwell, as if thou hadst a desire to go 
thither ; also there is a report that thou art aware of the evil thou hast formerly done 
to thy husband, in hardening thy heart against his way, and in keeping of these thy 
babes in their ignorance. Christiana, the Merciful One hath sent me to tell thee, that 
He is a God ready to forgive, and that He taketh delight to multiply the pardon of 
offences. He also would have thee know that He inviteth thee to come into His 
presence, to His table, and that He will feed thee with the fat of His house, and with 
the heritage of Jacob thy fether. 

There is Christian, thy husband that was, with legions more, his companions, ever 
beholding that face that doth minister life to beholders ; and they will be glad when 
they shall hear the sound of thy feet step over thy Father's threshold." 

Christiana at this was greatly abashed in herself, and bowed her head to the 
ground. 

This visitor proceeded, and said, " Christiana, here is also a letter for thee, which I 
have brought from thy husband's King." So she took it, and opened it ; but it smelt 
after the manner of the best perfume ; " also it was written in letters of gold. The 
contents of the letter were these : " That the King would have her to do as Christian 
her husband ; for that was the way to come to His City, and to dwell in His presence 
with joy for ever." 

At this the good woman was quite overcome ; so she cried out to her visitor, " Sir, 
will you carry me and my children with you, that we also may go and worship this 
King?" 



190 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Then said the visitor, " Christiana, the bitter is before the sweet. Thou must 
through troubles, as did he that went before thee, enter the Celestial City. Where- 
fore I advise thee to do as did Christian thy husband : go to the wicket-gate yonder 
over the plain, for that stands in the head of the way up which you must go ; and I 
wish thee all good speed. Also I advise that thou put this letter in thy bosom, that 
thou read therein to thyself, and to thy children, until you have got it by rote of 
heart ; for it is one of the songs that thou must sing while thou art in this house of 
thy pilgrimage." Also this thou must deliver in at the farther gate." 

Now, I saw in my dream, that this old gentleman, as he told me the story, did him- 
self seem to be greatly affected therewith. He moreover proceeded, and said : 

So Christiana called her sons together, and began thus to address herself unto 
them : " My sons, I have, as you may perceive, been of late under much exercise in 
my soul about the death of your father : not for that I doubt at all of his happiness, for 
I am satisfied now that he is well. I have also been much affected with the thouohts 
of mine own state and yours, which I verily believe is by nature miserable. My 
carriages also to your father in his distress is a great load to my conscience, for I 
hardened both mine own heart and yours against him, and refused to go with him on 
pilgrimage. 

" The thoughts of these things would now kill me outright, but for a dream which 
I had last night, and but for the encouragement that this stranger has given me this 
morning. Come, my children, let us pack up, and be gone to the gate that leads to 
the Celestial Country, that we may see your father, and be with him and his com- 
panions in peace, according to the laws of that land." 

Then did her children burst out into tears, for joy that the heart of their mother 
was .so inclined. So their visitor bade them farewell; and they began to prepare to 
set out for their journey. 

But while they were thus about to be gone, two of the women that were Christiana's 
neighbors came up to the house, and knocked at the door. To whom she said as 
before, " If you come in God's name, come in." At this the women were stunned ; 
for this kind of language they used not to hear, or to perceive to drop from the lips 
of Christiana. Yet they came in ; but, behold they found the good woman prei)aring 
to be gone from her house. 

So they began, and said, " Neighbor, pray what is your meaning by this ? " 

Christiana answered and said to the eldest of them, whose name was Mrs. Timor- 
ous, " I am preparing for a journey." 



MERCY AND MRS. TIMOROUS VISIT CHRISTIANA. 191 

This Timorous was daughter to him that met Christian upon the Hill Difficulty, 
and would have had him go back for fear of the lions. 

Tim. For what journey, I pray you ? 

Chr. Even to go after my good husband. And with that she fell a weeping. 

Tim. I hope not so, good neighbor. Pray, for your poor children's sake, do not so 
unwomanly cast away yourself 

Chr. Nay, my children shall go with me ; not one of them is willing to stay behind. 

Tim. I wonder in my very heart what or who has brought you into this mind ! 

Chr. Oh, neighbor, knew you but as much as I do, I doubt not but that you would 
go with nie. 

Tim. Prithee, what new knowledge hast thou got that so worketh off thy mind from 
thy friends, and that tempteth thee to go nobody knows where ? 

Chr. Then Christiana replied, " I have been sorely afflicted since my husband's 
departure from me, but especially since he went over the river. But that which 
troubleth me most is my churlish carriages to him when he was under his distress. 
Besides, I am now as he was then : nothing will serve me but going on pilgrimage. 
I was a-drearaing last night that I saw him. Oh that my soul was with him ! He 
dwelleth in the jjresence of the King of the country ; he sits and eats with Hi-m at 
His table ; he has become a companion of immortals, and has a house now given him 
to dwell in, to which the best palaces on earth, if compared, seem to me but as a 
dunghill.'^ The Prince of the place has also sent for me, with promises of entertain- 
ment if I shall come to Him; His messenger was here even now, and has brought me 
a letter which invites me to come." And with that she plucked out the letter, and 
read it, and said to them, " What now will you say to this ? " 

Tim. Oh, the madness that hath possessed thee and thy husband, to run yourselves 
upon such difficulties ! You have heard, I am sure, what your husband did meet with, 
even in a manner at the first step that he took on his way, as our neighbor Obstinate 
can yet testify, for he went along with them ; yea, and Pliable too ; until tliey, like 
wise men, were afraid to go any farther. We also heard, over and above, how he met 
with the lions, Apollyon, the Shadow of Death, and many other things. Nor is tlie 
danger he met with at Vanity Fair to be forgotten by thee. For if he, though a man, 
was so hard put to it, what canst thou, being but a poor woman, do? Consider also 
that these four sweet babes are thy children, thy flesh and thy bones. Wiierefore, 
though thou shouldest be so rash as to cast away thyself, yet, for the sake of the fruit 
of thy body, keep thou at home. 

But Christiana said unto her, " Tempt me not, my neighbor. I have now a ])rice 



192 



THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 



put into my hands to get gain, and I should be a fool of the greatest size if I should 
have no heart to strike in with the opportunity. And for that you tell me of all these 
troubles which I am like to meet with in the way, they are so far off from being to me 
a discouragement, that they show I am in the right. The bitter must come before the 
sweet, and that also will make the sweet the sweeter. Wherefore, since you came not 
to my house in God's name, as I said, I pray you to be gone, and not to disquiet me 
further." 

Then Timorous reviled her, and said to her fellow, "(bme, neighb.)r Mercy, let us 

leave her in her own hands, since she scorns 
our counsel and company." But Mercy was 
at a stand, and could not so readily comjily 
with her neighbor, and that for a twofold 
reason. 1. Her bowels yearned over Chris- 
tiana ; so she said within herself, " If my 
neighbor will needs be gone, I will go a little 
way with her, and help her." 2. Her bowels 
yearned over her own soul ; for what 
Christiana had said liad taken hold upon her 
mind. Wherefore she said within herself 
again, " I will yet have more talk with this 
Christiana, and if I find truth and life in 
what she shall say, myself, with ray heart, 
shall also go with her." Wherefore Mercy 
began thus to reply to her neighbor Timor- 
ous: 

Mer. Neighbor, I did indeed come with 

you to see Christiana this morning; and since 

she is, as you see, taking her last farewell of 

her country, I think to walk this sunshiny morning a little with her, to help her on 

her way. 

But she told her not of the second reason, but kept that to herself. 
Tim. Well, I see you have a mind to go a-fooling too; but take heed in time, and 
be wise. While we are out of danger, we are out ; but when we are in, we are in. 

So JNIrs. Timorous returned to her house, and Christiana betook herself to her. 
journey. But Avhen Timorous was got home to her house, she sends for some of her 
neighbors; to wit, M rs.^ Bat's-eyes, Mrs. Inconsiderate, Mrs. Light-mind, and Mrs. 




:' ■*. ■'''>/-v^i 



"Well, I see you have a mind to go a-fooliag too.' ' 



efq' '-^ 



S V 



9- 

■n 




194 THE PILGRBVS PROGRESS. 

Know-nothing. So, when they were come to her house, she falls to telling of the story 
of Christiana and of her intended journey. And thus she began her tale : 

Tim. Neighbors, having had little to do this morning, I went to give Christiana a 
visit; and when I came at the door, I knocked, as you know it is our custom; and she 
answered, " If you come in God's name, come in." So in I went, thinking all was well ; 
but when I came in I found her preparing herself to depart the town, she and also her 
children. So I asked her what was her meaning by that. And she told me, in short, 
that she was now of a mind to go on pilgrimage, as did her husband. She told me 
also a dream that she had, and how the King of the country where her husband was 
had sent her an inviting letter to come thither. 

Then said Mrs. Know-nothing, "And, what! do you think she will go?" 

Tim. Ay, go she will, whatever comes on 't ; and methinks I know it by this : for 
that which was my great argument to persuade her to stay at home (to wit, the 
troubles she was like to meet with in the way) is one great argument witli her to put 
her forward on her journey. For she told me, in so many words, " The bitter goes 
before the sweet ; yea, and forasmuch as it so doth, it makes the sweet the sweeter." 

Mrs. Bat's- EYES. "Oh, this blind and foolish woman!" said she; "will she not 
take warning by her husband's afflictions ? For my part, I see, if he were here again, 
he would rest him content in a whole skin, and never run so many hazards for notliing." 

Mrs. Inconsiderate also replied, saying, " Away with such fantastical fools from 
the town ! a good riddance, for my part, I say, of her ! Should she stay where she 
dwells, and retain this her mind, who could live quietly by her ? for she will either be 
dumpish, or unneighborly, or talk of such matters as no wise body can abide. 
Wherefore, for my part, I shall never be sorry for her departure : let her go, and let 
better come in her room. It was never a good world since these whimsical fools 
dwelt in it." 

Then Mrs. Liglit-mind added as followeth : " Come, put this kind of talk away. I 
was yesterday at Madam Wanton's, where we were as merry as the maids. For who 
do you think should be there, but I and Mrs. Love-the-Flesh, and three or four more, 
with Mr. Lechery, Mrs. Filth, and some others. So there we had music and dancing, 
and what else was meet to fill up the pleasure. And, I dare say, my lady herself is 
an admirable well-bred gentlewoman, and Mr. Lechery is as pretty a fellow." 



MERCY RESOLVES TO BECOME A PILGRIM. 196 




CHAPTER II. 

THE WICKET-GATE. 

) Y this time Christiana was got on her way, and Mercy went along with her. So 
as they went, her children being there also, Christiana began to discourse. 
"And, Mercy," said Christiana, " I take this as an unexpected ftivor, that thou 
shouldst set forth out of doors with me, to accompany me a little in my way." 

Mer. Then said young Mercy (for she was but young), "If I thought it would be 
to purpose to go with you, I would never go near the town any more." 

Chk. " Well, Mercy," said Christiana, " cast in tliy lot with me : I well know what 
will be the end of our pilgrimage: my husband is where he would not but be for all 
the gold in the Spanish mines. Nor shalt thou be rejected, though thou goest but 
upon my invitation. The King who hath sent for me and my children is One that 
delighteth in mercy. Besides, if thou wilt, I will hire thee, and thou shalt go along 
with me as my servant ; yet we will have all things in common betwixt thee and me : 
only go along with me." 

Mer. But how shall I be ascertained that I also shall be entertained ? Had I this 
hope but from one that can tell, I would make no stick at all, but would go, being 
helped by Him that can help, though the way be never so tedious. 

CiiR. Well, loving INIercy, I will tell thee what thou shalt do : go with me to the 
wicket-gate, and there I will further inquire for thee ; and if there thou dost not meet 
with encouragement, I will be content that thou shalt return to thy place : I also will 
pay thee for thy kindness which thou showest to me and my children, in the accom- 
panying of >is in our way as thou dost. 

Mer. Then will I go thither, and will take what shall follow ; and the Lord grant 
that my lot may there fall, even as the King of heaven siiall have His heart upon me ! 

Christiana was then glad at her heart, not only that she had a companion, but also 
for that she had ])revailed with this poor maid to fall in love with her own salvation. 
So they went on together, and Mercy began to weep. 

Then said Christiana, " Wherefore weepeth my sister so?" 

Mer. "Alas ! " said she, " who can but lament, that shall but rightly consider what 
a state and condition my jioor relations are in, that yet remain in our sinful town? 



196 THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 

And that which makes my grief the more heavy is, because they have no instructor, 
nor any to tell them what is to come. 

Chr. Bowels becometh pilgrims ; and thou dost for thy friends as my good Christian 
did for me when he left me : he mourned for that I would not heed nor regard him ; 
but his Lord and ours did gather up his tears, and put them into His bottle ; and now 
both I and thou, and these my sweet babes, are reaping the fruit and benefit of them. 
I hope, Mercy, that these tears of thine will not be lost ; for the Truth hath said that 
" they that sow in tears shall reap in joy," in singing ; and " he that goeth forth and 
weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing hig 
sheaves with him." ^^ 

Then said Mercy : 

" Let the Most Blessed be my guide, 
If 't be His blessed will, 
Unto His gate, into His fold, 
Up to His holy hill. 

"And let Him never suffer me 
To swerve or turn aside 
From His free grace and holy ways, 
Whate'er shall me betide. 

"And let Him gather them of mine 
That I have left behind : 
Lord, make them pray they may be Thine. 
With all their heart and mind." 

Now my old friend proceeded, and said, " But when Christiana came to the Slough 
of Despond, she began to be at a stand ; ' For,' said she, ' this is the place in which 
my dear husband had like to have been smothered with mud.' She perceived also 
that, notwithstanding the command of the King to make this place for pilgrims good, 
yet it was rather worse than formerly." So I asked if that was true. 

" Yes," said the old gentleman, " too true, for many there be that pretend to be the 
King's laborers, and say they are for mending the King's highway, that bring dirt 
and dung instead of stones, and so mar instead of mending. Here Christiana, there- 
fore, with her boys, did make a stand. But said Mercy, ' Come, let us venture, only 
let us be wary.' Then they looked well to their steps, and made shift to get stagger- 
ingly over. Yet Christiana had like to have been in, and that not once nor twice. 

" Now, they had no sooner got over, but they thought they heard words that said 
unto them, ' Blessed is she that believeth, for there shall be a performance of those 
things which were told her from the Lord.' " 



AT THE WICKET GATE. 



197 



"Then they went on again ; and said Mercy to Christiana, ' Had I as good ground 
to hope for a loving reception at the wicket-gate as you, I think no Slough of Despond 
would discourage me.' 

" ' Well,' said the other, ' You know your sore, and I know mine ; and, good friend, 
we shall all have enough evil before we come at our journey's end. For can it be 
imagined that the people that design to attain such excellent glories as we do, and that 
are so envied that happiness as we are, but 
that we shall meet with what fears and scares, 
with what troubles and afflictions they can 
possibly assault us with, that hate us '? ' " 

And now Mr. Sagacity left me to dream out 
my dream by myself AVherefore, methought 
I saw Christiana, and Mercy, and the boys, go 
all of them up to tlie gate; to which when 
they were come, they betook themselves to a 
short debate about how they must manage 
their calling at the gate, and what should be 
said unto him that did open unto them : so it 
was concluded, since Christiana was the eldest, 
that she should knock for entrance, and that 
she should sjseak to him that did open, for the 
rest. So Christiana began to knock, and, as 
her 2)Oor husband did, she knocked and 
knocked again. But instead of any that 
answered, they all thought that they heard as 
if a dog came barking upon them ; a dog, and a great one too : and this made the 
women and children afraid, nor durst they for a while to knock any more, for fear the 
mastiff should fly upon them. Now, therefore, they were greatly tumbled up and 
down in their minds, and knew not what to do. Knock they durst not, for fear of 
the dog ; go back they durst not, for fear the Keeper of the gate should espy them as 
they so went, and should be offended with them. At last they thought of knocking 
again, and knocked more vehemently than they did at first. Then said the Keeper 
of the gate, "Who is there?" So the dog left off" to bark, and He opened unto 
them. 

Then Christiana made low obeisance, and said, " Let not our Lord be offended with 
His handmaidens, for that we have knocked at His princely gate." 




' ' Come, let us veuture, only let us be wary.' 



198 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Then said the Keeper, " Whence come ye ? and what is it that you would have ? " 

Christiana answered, " We are come from whence Christian did come, and upon the 
same errand as he ; to wit, to be, if it shall please you, graciously admitted by this gate 
into the way that leads to the Celestial City. And I answer, my Lord, in the next 
place, that I am Christiana, once the wife of Christian, that now is gotten above." 

With that the Keeper of the gate did marvel, saying, " What ! is she now become a 
pilgrim, that, but a while ago, abhorred that life ? " 

Then she bowed her head, and said, " Yes ; and so are these my sweet babes also." 

Then He took her by the hand, and let her in, and said also, " Suffer the little 
children to come unto me ; " and with that He shut up the gate. This done. He 
called to a trumpeter that was above, over the gate, to entertain Christiana with shout- 
ing and sound of trumpet for joy. So he obeyed, and sounded, and filled the air with 
his melodious notes.^^ 

Now, all this while poor Mercy did stand without, trembling and crying, for fear 
that she was rejected. But when Christiana had got admittance for herself and her 
boys, then she began to make intercession for Mercy. 

Chr. And she said, " My Lord, I have a companion of mine that stands yet with- 
out, that is come hither upon the same account as myself; one that is much dejected 
in her mind, for that she comes, as she thinks, without sending for ; whereas I was 
sent to by my husband's King to come." 

Now Mercy began to be very impatient, for each minute was as long to her as an 
hour ; wherefore she prevented Christiana from a fuller interceding for her, by knock- 
ing at the gate herself. And she knocked then so loud that she made Christiana to 
start. Then said the Keeper of the gate, " Who is there ? " And said Christiana, " It 
is my friend." 

So He opened the gate and looked out ; but Mercy was fallen down without in a 
swoon, for she fainted, and was afraid that no gate would be opened to her. 

Then He took her by the hand, and said, " Damsel, I bid thee arise." 

" Oh, sir," said she, " I am faint : there is scarce life left in me." 

But He answered that " One once said, ' When my soul fainted within me, I remem- 
bered the Lord ; and my prayer came in unto Thee, into Thy holy temple.' ^^ Fear 
not, but stand upon thy feet, and tell me wherefore thou art come." 

Mer. I am come for that unto which I was never invited, as my friend Christiana 
•was. Hers was from the King, and mine was but from her. Wherefore I fear I 
presume. 

Keep. Did she desire thee to come with her to this place ? 




The King's Trumpeter. 



(199) 



200 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Mek. Yes ; and, as my Lord sees, I am come. And if there is any grace and 
forgiveness of sins to spare, I beseech that I, Thy poor liandmaiden, may be partaker 
tliereof. 

Then He took her again by the hand, and led her gently in, and said, " I pray for 
all them that believe on me, by what means soever they come unto me." Then said 
He to those that stood by, "Fetch something, and give it to Mercy to smell on, 
thereby to stay her fainting." So they fetched her a bundle of myrrh, and a while 
after she was revived. 

And now was Christiana and her boys and JMercy received of the Lord at the head 
of the way, and spoke kindly unto by Him. Then said they yet further unto Him, 
" We are sorry for our sins, and beg of our Lord His pardon and further information 
what we must do." 

"I grant pardon," said He, " by word and deed : by word, in the promise of for- 
giveness ; by deed, in the way I obtained it. Take the first from my lips with a kiss, 
and the other as it shall be revealed."" 

Now, I saw in my dream, tliat He S2:»ake many good words unto them, whereby 
they were greatly gladded. He also had them up to the top of the gate, and showed 
them by what deed they were saved ; and told them withal that that sight they would 
liave again as they went along the way, to their comfort. 

So He left them a while in a summer parlor below, where they entered into a talk 
by themselves ; and thus Christiana began : 

" O Lord, how glad am I that we are got in hither ! " 

IMkr. So you well may ; but I of all have cause to leap for joy. 

Che. I thought one time as I stood at the gate, because I knocked, and none did 
answer, that all our labor had been lost, specially when that ugly cur made such a 
heavy barking against us. 

Mer. But my worst fear was after I saw that you were taken into His favor, and 
that I wa^ left behind. Now, thought I, it is fulfilled which is written, "Two women 
shall be grinding at the mill ; the one shall be taken, and the other left"* I had much 
ado to forbear crying out, " Undone ! undone ! " And afraid I was to knock any more : 
but when I looked up to what was written over the gate, I took courage. I also thought 
that I must either knock again or die ; so I knocked, but I cannot tell how, for my 
spirit now struggled betwixt life and death. 

Chr. Can you not tell how you knocked ? I am sure your knocks were so earnest, 
that the very sound of them made me start. I thought I never heard such knocking 




Mercy Fali-en ix a Swoon at the Wicket-Gate. 

26 



(201' 



202 ■ THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

in all my life : I thought you would come in by violent hands, or take the kingdom 
by storm." 

Mer. Alas ! to be in my case, who that so was could but have done so ? You saw 
that the door was shut upon me, and that there was a most cruel dog thereabout. 
Who, I say, that was so faint-hearted as I, would not have knocked with all their 
might? But, pray, what said my Lord to my rudeness? Was He not angry with me? 
Chr. When He heard your lumbering noise. He gave a wonderful innocent smile ; 
I believe what you did pleased Him well enough, for He showed no sign to the con- 
trary. But [ marvel in my heart why he keeps such a dog : had I known that afore, 
I should not have had heart enough to have ventured myself in this manner. But 
now we are in, we are in, and I am glad with all my heart. 

Mer. I will ask, if you please, next time He comes down, why He keeps such a 
tilthy cur in His yard. I hope He will not take it amiss. 

" Ay, do," said the children, " and ])ersuade Him to hang him, for we are afraid he 
will bite us when we go hence." 

So at last He came down to them again, and Mercy fell to the ground on her face 
before Him, and worshipped, and said, " Let my Lord accept the sacrifice of praise 
which I now offer unto Him with the calves of my lips." 

So He said unto her, " Peace be to thee ; stand up." But she continued upon her 
face, and said, " Righteous art Thou, O Lord, when I plead with Thee ; yet let me talk 
with Thee of Thy judgments."" Wherefore dost Thou keep so cruel a dog in Thy 
yard, at the sight of which such women and children as we are ready to fly from the 
gate with fear ? He answered and said, " That dog has another owner ; he also is kept 
close in another man's ground, only my pilgrims hear his barking : he belongs to the 
castle which you see there at a distance, but can come up to the walls of this place. 
He has frighted many an honest pilgrim from worse to better, by the great voice of his 
roaring. Indeed, he that owneth him doth not keep him out of any good-will to me 
or mine, but with intent to keep the j^ilgrims from coming to me, and that they niay 
be afraid to come and knock at this gate for entrance. Sometimes also he has broken 
out, and has worried some that I love ; but I take all at present patiently. I also give 
my jjilgrims timely help, so that they are not delivered up to his power, to do with 
them what his doggish nature would prompt him to. But, what ! my purchased one, 
I trow, liadst thou known even so much beforehand, thou wouldst not have been afraid 
of a dog. The beggars that go from door to door will, rather than lose a supposed 
alms, run the hazard of the bawling, barking, and biting too, of a dog; and shall a 
dog in another man's yard, a dog whose barking I turn to the profit of pilgrims, keep 



THE ILL-FA VORED ONES. , 203 

any one from coming to me? I deliver them from the lions, their darling from the 
power of the dog." 

Mer. Then said Mercy, " I confess my ignorance : I spake what I understood not : 
I acknowled2;e that Thou doest all thins-s well." 

Chr. Then Christiana began to talk of their journey, and to inquire after the way. 

So He fed them, and washed their feet, and set them in the way of His steps, accord- 
ing as He had dealt with her husband before. 

So I saw in my dream that they walked on in their way, and had the weather very 
comfortable to them. 

Then Christiana began to sing, saying : 

" Blessed be the day that I began 
A pilgrim for to be ; 
And blessed also be the man 
That thereto mov^d me. 

'"T is true, 't was long ere I began 
To seek to live for ever; 
But now I run fast as I can : 
'T is better late than never. 

" Our tears to joy, our fears to faith. 
Are tm'n^d, as we see ; 
Thus our beginning (as one saith) 
Shows what our end will be." 

Now, there was, on the other side of the wall that fenced in the way up which 
Christiana and her companions were to go, a garden, and that garden belonged to him 
whose was that barking dog, of whom mention was made before. And some of the 
fruit-trees that grew in that garden shot their branches over the wall ; and, being 
mellow, they that found them did gather them up, and oft eat of them to their hurt. 
So Christiana's boys, as boys are apt to do, being pleased with the trees, and the fruit 
that did hang thereon, did plash* them, and began to eat. Their mother did also chide 
them for so doing; but still the boys went on. 

" Well," said she, " my sons, you transgress, for that fruit is none of ours ; " but she 
did not know that it did belong to the enemy : I'll warrant you, if she had, she would 
have been ready to die for fear. But that passed, and they went on their way. 

Now, by that they were gone about two bowshots from the place that led them into 



* To plash, reri ac^, or to bend, plier. — " Dictionnaire Royale Francais-An^lais et Anglais-Franjais," par. A. Boyer, 4to, 
1729. 



204 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



the way, they espied two very ill-favored ones coming down apace to meet them. 
With that, Christiana, and Mercy her friend, covered themselves with their veils, and 
so kept on their journey ; the children also went on before; so that, at last, they met 
together. Then they that came down to meet them came just up to the women, as if 
they would embrace them ; but Christiana said, " Stand back, or go peaceably by, as 
you should." 

Yet these two, as men that are deaf, regarded not Christiana's words, but began to 

lay hands upon them. At that, Christiana, 
waxing very wroth, spurned at them with her 
feet. Mercy also, as well as she could, did 
what she could to shift them. Christiana 
again said to them, " Stand back, and be gone ; 
for we have no money to lose, being pilgrims, 
as you see, and such, too, as live upon the 
charity of our fi-iends." 

Ill-favored One. Then said one of the two 
men, " We make no assault ujjon you for 
money, but are come out to tell you that, if 
you will grant one small request which we shall 
ask, we will make women of vou for ever." 

Chr. Now Christiana, imagining what they 
should mean, made answer again, " We will 
neither hear nor regard, nor yield to what 
you shall ask. We are in haste, and cannot 
stay ; our business is a business of life or 
death." 

So again she and her companions made a 
fresh essfiy to go past them ; but they letted them in their way. 

Ill-fav. And they said, " We intend no hurt to your lives ; it is another thing we 
would have." 

Chr. " Ay," quoth Christiana, " you would have us body and soul, for I know it is 
for that you are come ; but we will die rather upon the spot, than to suffer ourselves 
to be brought into such snares as shall hazard our well-being hereafter." And, with 
that, they both shrieked out, and cried, "Murder! murder!" and so jjut themselves 
under those laws that are provided for the protection of women.^^ But the men still 




The Ill-favored ones. 




■ So Christiana's boys, as boys are apt to do, being pleased with the trees, and the fruit that did hang thereon, 

did plash them, and began to eat." (205) 



206 THE PILGRIAVS PROGRESS. 

made their approach upon them, with design to prevail against them. They therefore 
cried out again. 

Now, they being, as I said, not far from the gate in at which they came, their 
voices were heard from where they were, thither ; wherefore some of tlie house came 
out, and, knowing it was Christiana's tongue, they made haste to her relief. But by 
that they were got within sight of them, the women were in a very great scuffle ; the 
children also stood crying by. Then did he that came in for their relief call out to the 
ruffians, saying, " What is that thing you do ? Would you make my Lord's people to 
transgress ? " He also attempted to take them, but they did make their escape over the 
wall into the garden of the man to whom the great dog belonged ; so the dog became 
their protector. This Reliever then came up to the women, and asked them how they did. 

So they answered, " We thank thy Prince, pretty well, only we have been somewhat 
affrighted : we thank thee also for that thou camest in to our help, otherwise we had 
been overcome." 

Reliever. So, after a few more words, this Reliever said as followeth : " I marvelled 
much when you were entertained at the gate above, being ye knew that ye were but 
weak women, that you petitioned not the Lord for a conductor. Then might you 
have avoided these troubles and dangers ; for He would have granted you one." 

Chr. " Alas ! " said Christiana, " we were taken so with our present blessing, that 
dangers to come were forgotten by us. Besides, who could have thought that, so near 
the King's palace, there could have lurked such naughty ones ? Indeed, it had been 
well for us had we asked our Lord for one ; but, since our Lord knew it would be for 
our profit, I wonder He sent not one along with us." 

Rel. It is not always necessary to grant things not asked for, lest, by so doing, they 
become of little esteem ; but when the want of a thing is felt, it then comes under, in 
the eyes of him that feels it, that estimate that properly is its due ; and so, consequently, 
it will be thereafter used. Had my Lord granted you a conductor, you would not 
either have so bewailed that oversight of yours, in not asking for one, as now you have 
occasion to do. So all things work for good, and tend to make you more wary. 

Chr. Shall we go back again to my Lord, and confess our folly, and ask one? 

Rel. Your confession of your folly I will present Him with. To go back again you 
need not ; for, in all places where you shall come, you will find no want at all ; for, in 
every one of my Lord's lodgings, which He has prepared for the reception of His pil- 
grims, there is sufficient to furnish them against all attempts whatsoever. But, as I 
said, He will be inquired of by them, to do it for them.^^ And 't is a poor thing that 
is not worth asking for. 



THE INTERPRETER'S IfOUSE. 207 

When lie luid tlius said, he went back to his jilace, and the pilgrims went on their 
way. 

Mer. Then said Mercy, " Wliat a sudden blank is here ! I made account we had 
been past all danger, and that we should never see sorrow more." 

Chr. " Thy innocence, my sister," said Christiana to Mercy, "may excuse thee 
much ; but as for me, my fault is so much the greater, for that I saw the danger before 
1 came out of the doors, and yet did not provide for it when provision might have been 
had. I am, therefore, much to be blamed." 

Mer. Then said Mercy, " How knew you this before you came from home ? Pray, 
open to me this riddle." 

Chr. Why, I will tell you. Before I set foot out of doors, one night, as I lay in 
my bed, I had a dream about this ; for methought I saw two men, as like these as ever 
any in the world could look, stand at my bed's feet, plotting how they might prevent 
my salvation. I will tell you their very words. They said (it was when I was in my 
troubles), " What shall we do with this woman ? for she cries out waking and sleeping 
for forgiveness : if she be suffered to go on as she begins, we shall lose her as we have 
lost her husband." This, you know, might have made me take heed, and have pro- 
vided when provision might have been had. 

Mer. " Well," said Mercy, " as by this neglect we have an occasion ministered unto 
us to behold our own imperfections, so our Lord has taken occasion thereby to make 
manifest the riches of His grace ; for He, as we see, has followed us with unasked 
kindness, and has delivered us from their hands that were stronger than we, of His 
mere good pleasure. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE interpreter's HOUSE. 




HUS, now, when they had talked away a little more time, they drew near to a 

house which stood in the way, which house was built for the relief of pilgrims, 

as you will find more fully related in the first part of these records of the 

Pilgrim's Progress. So they drew on towards the house (the house of the 

Interpreter) ; and, when they came to the door, they heard a great talk in the house. 

Then they gave ear, and heard, as they thought, Christiana mentioned by name ; for 

you must know that there went along, even before her, a talk of her and her children's 



208 



THE .PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



going on pilgrimage. And this was the more pleasing to them, because they had heard 
she was Christian's wife, that woman who was some time ago so unwillinsr to hear of 
going on pilgrimage. Thus, therefore, they stood still, and heard the good people 
within commending her, who, they little thought, stood at the door. At last Christiana 
knocked, as she had done at the gate before. Now, when she had knocked, there came 
to the door a young damsel, and opened the door and looked ; and, behold, two women 
were there. 

Dam. Then said the damsel to them, "With whom would you speak in this 
place ? " 

Che. Christiana answered, " We understand that this is a privileged place for those 

that are become pilgrims, and we now at this 
door are such ; wherefore we pray that we 
may be partakers of that for which we at this 
time are come ; for the day, as thou seest, is 
very far spent, and we are loth to-night to go 
any farther." 

Dam. Pray, what may I call your name, 
that I may tell it to my lord within ? 

Chr. My name is Christiana : I was the 
wife of that pilgrim that -some years ago did 
travel this way; and these be his four chil- 
dren. This maiden also is my companion, and 
is going on jjilgrimage too. 

Innocent. Then Innocent ran in (for that 
was her name), and said to those within, "Can 
you think who is at the door? There are 
Christiana and her children, and her com- 
panion, all waiting for entertainment here." 
Then they leaped for joy, and went and 
told their master. So he came to the door, and looking upon her, he said, "Art thou 
that Christiana whom Christian the srood man left behind him, when he betook him- 
self to a pilgrim's life ? " 

Chr. I am that woman that was so hard-hearted as to slight my husband's troubles, 
and then left him to go on his journey alone ; and these are his four children. But 
now also I am come, for I am convinced that no way is right but this. 

Inter. Then is fulfilled that which also is written of the man that said to his son. 




Innocent. 



RECEPTION AT THE INTERPRETERS HOUSE. 209 

" Go, work to-day in my vineyard ; " and he said to his father, " I will not ; " but 
afterwards he repented, and went.'^ 

Chr. Then said Christiana, "!So be it: Amen. God make it a true saying upon 
me, and grant that I may be found at the last of Him in peace, without spot and 
blameless ! " 

Inter. But whj' standest thou thus at the door ? Come in, thou daughter of 
Abraham. We were talking of thee l)ut now; for tidings have come to us before how 
thou art become a pilgrim. Come, children, come in ; come, maiden, come in. 

So he had them all into the house. 

So when they were within, they were bidden to sit down and rest them ; the which 
when they had done, those that attended upon the pilgrims in the house came into the 
room to see them. And one smiled, and another smiled, and they all smiled for joy 
that Christiana was become a pilgrim. They also looked ujaon the boys: they 
stroked them over the faces with the hand, in token of their kind reception of them; 
they also carried it lovingly to Mercy, and bid them all welcome into their master's 
house. 

After a while, because supper was not ready, the Interpreter took them into his 
significant rooms, and showed them what Christian, Christiana's husband, had seen 
some time before. Here, therefore, they saw the man in the cage, the man and his 
dream, the man that cut his way through his enemies, and the picture of the biggest 
of them all, together with the rest of those things that were then so profitable to 
Christian. 

This done, and after those things had been somewhat digested by Christiana and 
her company, the Interpreter takes them apart again, and has them first into a room 
where was a man that could look no way but downwards, with a muck-rake in his 
hand. There stood also one over his head, with a celestial crown in his hand, and 
proffered to give him that crown for his muck-rake ; but the man did neither look uji 
nor regard, but raked to himself the straws, the small sticks, and the dust of the floor. 

Then said Christiana, " I persuade myself that I know somewhat the meaning of 
this ; for this is a figure of a man of this world. Is it not, good sir? " 

Inter. " Thou hast said the right," said he ; " and his muck-rake doth show his 
carnal mind. And whereas thou seest him rather give heed to rake up straws and 
sticks, and the dust of the floor, than to do what he says that calls to him from above 
with the celestial crown in his hand ; it is to show that heaven is but a fable to some, 
and that things here are counted the only things substantial. Now, whereas it was 
also showed thee that the man could look no way but downwards ; it is to let thee 



210 THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 

know that earthly things, Avhen they are with j^ower uj^on men's minds, quite carry 
their hearts away from God." 

Chr. Then said Christiana, " Oh, deliver me from this muck-rake ! " 

IxTEK. " That prayer," said the Interpreter, " has lain by till it is almost rusty. 
' Give me not riches ' ^* is scarce the prayer of one of ten thousand. Straws, and sticks, 
and dust, with most, are the great things now looked after." 

With, that, Mercy and Christiana wept, and said, " It is, alas ! too true." 

When the Interpreter had showed them this, he had them into the very best room 
in the bouse ; a very brave room it was. So he bid them look round about, and see 
if they could find anything profitable there. Then they looked round and round ; 
for there was nothing to be seen but a very great spider on the wall, and that they 
overlooked. 

Mer. Then said Mercy, " Sir, I see nothing." 

But Christiana held her peace. 

Inter. " But," said the Interpreter, " look again." 

She therefore looked again, and said, " Here is not anything but an ugly spider, 
who hangs by her hands upon the wall." 

Then said he, " Is there but one spider in all this spacious room ? " 

Then the water stood in Christiana's eyes, for she was a woman quick of appre- 
hension ; and she said, " Yes, my lord ; there is here more than one ; yea, and s])iders 
whose venom is far more destructive than that which is in her." 

The Interpreter then looked pleasantly upon her, and said, " Thou hast said the truth." 

This made Mercy blush and the boys to cover their faces ; for they all began now 
to understand the riddle. 

Then said the Interpreter again, " The spider taketh hold with her hands (as you 
see), and is in kings' palaces.'"^ And wherefore is this recorded, but to show you 
that, how full of the venom of sin soever you be, yet you may, by the hand of faith, 
lay hold of and dwell in the best room that belongs to the king's house above." 

Chr. "I thought," said Christiana, "of something of this; but I could not imagine 
it all. I thought that we were like spiders, and that we looked like ugly creatures, 
in what fine rooms soever we were : but that by this spider, this venomous and ill- 
favored creature, we were to learn how to act faith, that came not into my mind ; and 
yet she has taken hold with her hands, and, as I see, dwelleth in the best room in the 
house. God has made nothing in vain." 

Then they seemed all to be glad, but the water stood in their eyes ; yet they looked 
one upon another, and also bowed before the Interpreter. 




Gathering the Things of this World, regardless of the Celestial Crown offered. 

"A man that could look uo way but downwards, witli a nuick-rake in his hand." (2U) 



212 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

He had them then into another room, where were a hen and chickens, and bid them 
observe a while. So one of the chickens went to the trough to drink ; and every time 
she drank, she lifted up her head and her eyes toward heaven. " See," said he, " what 
this little chick doth ; and learn of her to acknowledge whence your mercies come, by 
receiving them with looking up. " Yet again," said he, "observe and look." 

So they gave heed, and perceived that the hen did walk in a fourfold method 
towards her chickens. First, she had a common call, and that she hath all day long. 
Secondly, she had a special call, and that she had but sometimes. Thirdly, she had 
a brooding note.^* And, fourthly, she had an outcry. 

Inter. " Now," said he, " compare this hen to your King, and these chickens to 
His obedient ones : for, answerable to her, He Himself hath His methods which He 
walketh in toward His people. By His common call. He gives nothing; by His 
special call. He always has something to give ; He also has a brooding voice for them 
that are under His wing ; and He hath an outcry, to give the alarm when He seeth 
the enemy come I chose, my darlings, to lead you into the room where such things 
are, because you are women, and they are easy for you." 

Chr. "And, sir," said Christiana, " pray let us see some more." 

So he had them into the slaughter-house, where the butcher was killing a sheep ; 
and, behold, the slieep was quiet, and took her death patiently. Then said the Inter- 
preter, " You must learn of this sheep to suffer, and to put up with wrongs without 
murmurings and complaints. Behold how quietly she takes her death ; and, without 
objecting, she suffereth her skin to be pulled over her ears. Your King doth call you 
His sheep." 

After this, he led them into his garden, where was great variety of flowers ; and he 
said, "Do you see all these?" So Christiana said, "Yes." Then said he again, 
" Behold, the flowers are diverse in stature, in quality, and color, and smell, and virtue, 
and some are better than some ; also, where the gardener has set them, there they 
stand, and quarrel not one with another." 

Again, he had them into his field, which he had sowed with wheat and corn ; but 
when they beheld, the tops of all were cut off", and only the straw remained. He said 
again, "This ground was dunged, and ploughed, and sowed; but what shall we do 
with the crop ? " Then said Christiana, " Burn some, and make muck of the rest." 
Then said the Inter])reter again, " Fruit, you see, is that thing you look for ; and, for 
want of that, you condemn it to the fire, and to be trodden under foot of men. Beware- 
that in this you condemn not yourselves." 

Then, as they were coming in from abroad, they espied a little robin with a great 



THE INTERPRETER'S ALLEGORIES. 213 

spicier in his mouth. So the Interpreter said, " Look here." So they looked, and 
Mercy wondered ; but Christiana said, " What a disparagement is it to such a pretty 
little bird as the robin-redbreast is ; he being also a bird above many, that lovetli to 
maintain a kind of sociableness with man ! I had thought they had lived upon crumbs 
of bread, or upon other such harmless matter. I like him worse than I did." 

The Interpreter then replied, " This robin is an emblem very apt, to set forth some 
professors by ; for to sight they are as this robin, pretty of note, color, and carriage. 
They seem also to have a very great love for professors that are sincere ; and above 
all other to desire to sociate with them, and to be in their company, as if they could 
live upon the good man's crumbs. They pretend, also, that therefore it is that they 
frequent the house of the godly and the appointments of the Lord ; but, when they are 
by themselves, as the robin, they can catch and gobble up spiders ; they can change 
their diet, drink iniquity, and swallow down sin like water. 

So, when they were come again into the house, because supper as yet was not ready, 
Christiana again desired that the Interpreter would either show, or tell of, some other 
things that were profitable. 

Then the Interpreter began, and said, " The fatter the sow is, the more she desires 
the mire ; the fatter the ox is, the more gamesomely he goes to the slaughter ; and 
the more healthy the lusty man is, the more prone he is unto evil. There is a desire 
in women to go neat and fine ; and it is a comely thing to be adorned with that which 
in God's sight is of great price. 'T is easier watching a night or two than to sit up a 
whole year together ; so 't is easier for one to begin to profess well than to hold out as 
he should to the end. Every shipmaster, when in a storm, will willingly cast that 
overboard which is of the smallest value in the vessel ; but who will throw the best 
out first ? None but he that feareth not God. One leak will sink a ship, and one sin 
will destroy a sinner. He that forgets his friend is ungrateful unto him ; but he that 
forgets his Saviour is unmerciful to himself. He that lives in sin, and looks for happi- 
ness hereafter, is like him that soweth cockle, and thinks to fill his barn with wheat or 
barley. If a man would live well, let him fetch his last day to him, and make it always 
his company-keeper. Whispering, and change of thoughts, prove that sin is in the 
world. If the world, which God sets light by, is counted a thing of that worth with 
men, what is heaven, that God commendeth ! If the life that is attended with so many 
troubles is so loth to be let go by us, what is the life above ! Everybody will cry up 
the goodness of men ; but who is there that is, as he should be, affected with the good- 
ness of God ? We seldom sit down to meat, but we eat and leave ; so there are in 
Jesus Christ more merit and righteousness than the whole world has need of" 



214 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

When the Interpreter had done, he takes them out into his garden again, and had 
them to a tree, whose inside was all rotten and gone, and yet it grew and had leaves. 

Then said Mercy, "What means this? " 

" This tree," said he, " whose outside is fair, and whose inside is rotten, is that to 
which many may be compared that are in the garden of God, who with their mouths 
speak high in behalf of God, but indeed will do nothing for Him ; whose leaves are 
fair, but their heart good for nothing but to be tinder for the devil's tinder-box." 

Now supper was ready, the table spread, and all things set on the board ; so they 
sat down, and did eat when one had given thanks. And the Interpreter did usually 
entertain those that lodged with him with music at meals ; so the minstrels played. 
There was also one that did sing, and a very fine voice he had. His song was 
this : 

" The Lord is only my support, 
And He that doth rue feed ; 
How can I then want anything 
Whereof I stand in need ? " 

When the song and music were ended, the Interpreter asked Christiana what it was 
that first did move her to betake herself to a pilgrim's life. Christiana answered, 
" First, the loss of my husband came into my mind, at which I was heartily grieved ; 
but all that was but natural affection. Then, after that, came the troubles and pil- 
grimages of my husband into my mind, and also how like a churl I had carried it to 
him as to that. So guilt took hold of my mind, and would have drawn me into the 
pond, but that, opportunely, I had a dream of the well-being of my husband, and a 
letter sent by the King of that country where my husband dwells, to come to him. 
The dream and the letter together so wrought upon my mind, that they forced me to 
this way." 

Inter. But met you with no opposition afore you set out of doors ? 

Chr. Yfes, a neighbor of mine, one Mrs. Timorous : she was akin to him that 
would have persuaded my husband to go back for fear of the lions. She all-to-be- 
fooled me for, as she called it, my intended desperate adventure ; she also urged what 
she could to dishearten me from it — the hardship and troubles that my husband met 
with in the way ; but all this I got over pretty well. But a dream that I had of 
two ill-looked ones, that I thought did plot how to make me miscarry in my journey, 
that hath troubled me much : yea, it still runs in my mind, and makes me afraid of 
every one that I meet, lest they should meet me to do me a mischief, and to turn me 
out of my way. Yea, I may tell my Lord, though I would not have everybody know 



DISCOURSE AT SUPPER. 215 

it, that, between this and the gate by which we got into the way, we were both so 
sorely assaulted that we were made to cry out " murder ; " and the two that made this 
assault upon us were like the two that I saw in my dream. 

Then said the Interpreter, " Thy beginning is good ; thy latter end shall greatly 
increase." So he addressed himself to Mercy, and said unto her, " And what moved 
thee to come hither, sweetheart? " 

Then Mercy blushed and trembled, and for a while continued silent. 

Inter. Then said he, " Be not afraid ; only believe, and speak thy mind." 

Mek. So she began, and said, " Truly, sir, my want of experience is that which 
makes me covet to be in silence, and that also that fills me with fears of coming short 
at last. I cannot tell of visions and dreams, as my friend Christiana can, nor know I 
what it is to mourn for my refusing the counsel of those that were good rela- 
tions." 

Inter. What was it, then, dear heart, that hath prevailed with thee to do as thou 
hast done ? 

Mer. Why, when our friend here was packing up to be gone from our town, I and 
another went accidentally to see her. So we knocked at the door and went in. When 
we were within, and seeing what she was doing, we asked her what was her meaning. 
She said she was sent for to go to her husband ; and then she up and told us how she 
had seen him in a dream, dwelling in a curious place, among immortals, wearing a 
crown, playing upon a harp, eating and drinking at his Prince's table, and singing 
praises to Him for bringing him thither, etc. Now, methought while she was telling 
these things unto us, my heart burned within me. And I said in my heart, If this be 
true, I will leave my father and my mother, and the land of my nativity, and will, if I 
may, go along with Christiana. So I asked her further of the truth of these things, 
and if she would let me go with her ; for I saw now that there was no dwelling but 
with the danger of ruin any longer in our town. But yet I came away with a heavy 
heart ; not for that I was unwilling to come away, but for that so many of my relations 
were left behind. And I am come with all the desire of my heart, and will go, if I 
may, with Christiana, unto her husband and his King. 

Inter. Thy setting out is good, for thou hast given credit to the truth : thou art a 
Ruth, who did, for the love she bare to Naomi and to the Lord her God, leave father 
and mother, and the land of her nativity, to come out and go with a people that she 
knew not heretofore. The Lord recompense thy work, and a full reward be given 
thee of the Lord God of Israel, under whose wings thou art come to trust ! ^^ 

Now supper was ended, and preparation was made for bed : the women were laid 



21() THE PILGRLWS PROGRESS. 

singly alone, and the boys by themselves. Now, when Mercy was in bed, she could 
not sleep for joy, for that now her doubts of missing at last were removed further from 
her than ever they were before. So she lay blessing and jiraising God, who had had 
such favor for her. 

In the morning they arose with the sun, and prepared themselves for their 
departure ; but the Interpreter would have them tarry a while : " For," said he, " you 
must orderly go from hence." Then said he to the damsel that first opened to them, 
" Take them and have them into the garden, to the bath, and there wash them, and 
make them clean from the soil which they have gathered by travelling." 

Then Innocent the damsel took them and had them into the gai-den, and brought 
them to the bath ; so she told them that they must wash and be clean, for so her master 
would have the women to do that called at his house as they were going on pilgrimage. 
Then they went in and washed, yea, they and the boys and all ; and they came out 
of that bath, not only sweet and clean, but also much enlivened, and strengthened 
in their joints. So, when they came in, they looked fairer a deal than when they 
went out to the washing. 

When they were returned out of the garden from the bath, the Interpreter took 
them, and looked upon them, and said unto them, " Fair as the moon." Then he 
called for the seal wherewith they used to be sealed that were washed in this bath. 
So the seal was brought, and he set his mark upon them, that they might be known 
in the places whither they were yet to go. Now, the seal was the contents and sum of 
the passover which the children of Israel did eat ^* when they came out of the laud of 
Egypt ; and the mark was set between their eyes. This seal added greatly to their 
beauty, for it was an ornament to their faces. It also added to their gravity, and made 
their countenances more like those of angels. 

Then said the Interpreter again to the damsel that waited upon these women, " Go 
into the vestry, and fetch out garments for these people." So she went and fetched out 
white raii^ient, and laid it down before him; so he commanded them to put it on: it 
was fine linen, white and clean. When the women were thus adorned, they seemed 
to be a terror one to the other, for that they could not see that glory each one had in 
herself, which they could see in each other. Now, therefore, they began to esteem 
each other better than themselves. For " You are fairer than I am," said one ; and 
" You are more comely than I am," said another. The children also stood amazed, to 
see into what fashion they were brought. 

The Interpreter then called for a man-servant of his, one Great-heart, and bid him 
take sword, and helmet, and shield ; and " Take these my daughters," said he, " and 



THE CROSS AND THE CONSEQUENCES. 217 

conduct them to the house called Beautiful, at which place they will rest next." So 
he took his weapons, and went before them ; and the Interpreter said, " God speed ! " 
Those also that belonged to the family sent them away with many a good wish. So 
they went on their way and sang : 

."This place liatli been our second stage : 

Here we liave heard and seen 
Those good things that from age to age 

To others hid have been. 
The Dunghill-raker, Spider, Hen, 

The Chicken, too, to nie 
Have taught a lesson : let me then 

Conformed to it be. 

"The Butcher, Garden, and the Field, 

The Robin and his bait. 
Also the Rotten Tree, doth yield 

Me argument of weight : 
To move me for to watch and pray, 

To strive to be sincere. 
To take my cross up day by day. 

And serve the Lord with fear." 




CHAPTEE IV. 

THE CROSS AND THE CONSEQUENCES. 

OW, 1 saw in my dream that they went on, and Great-heart before them. So 

they went, and came to the place where Christian's burden fell oif his back and 

^J> tumbled into a sepulchre. Here, then, they made a pause, and here also they 

blessed God. " Now," said Christiana, " comes to my mind what was said to 

us at the gate, to wit, that we should have pardon by word and deed : by word, that is, 

by the promise ; by deed, to wit, in the way it was obtained. What the promise is, of 

that I know something; but what it is to have pardon by deed, or in the way that it 

was obtained, Mr. Great-heart, I suppose you know ; wherefore, if you please, let us 

hear you discourse thereof." 

Great. Pardon by the deed done, is pardon obtained by some one for another that 

28 



218 THE PILGRBVS PROGRESS. 

hath need thereof; not by the person pardoned, but in the way, saith another, in which 
I have obtained it. So then, to speak to the question more at large, the pardon that 
you, and Mercy, and these boys have obtained, was obtained by another ; to wit, by 
Him that let you in at the gate. And He hath obtained it in this double way : He has 
performed righteousness to cover you, and spilt His blood to wash you in. 

Chr. But if He parts with His righteousness to us, what will He have for Himself? 

Great. He has more righteousness than you have need of, or than He needeth 
Himself. 

Chr. Pray make that appear. 

Great. With all my heart : but first I must premise, that He of whom we are now 
about to speak is one that has not His fellow. He has two natures in one person, 
plain to be distinguished, impossible to be divided. Unto each of these natures a 
righteousness belongeth, and each righteousness is essential to that nature ; so that 
one may as easily cause the nature to be extinct, as to separate its justice or righteous- 
ness from it. Of these righteousnesses, therefore, we are not made partakers so that 
they, or any of them, should be put upon us that we might be made just, and live 
thereby. Besides these, there is a righteousness which this Person has, as these two 
natures are joined in one. And this is not the righteousness of the Godhead as dis- 
tinguished from the manhood, nor the righteousness of the manhood as distinguished 
from the Godhead ; but a righteousness which standeth in the union of both natures, 
and may properly be called the righteousness that is essential to His being prepared of 
God to the capacity of the mediatory office, which He was to be entrusted with. If 
He parts with His first righteousness, He parts with His Godhead ; if He parts with 
His second righteousness. He parts with the jjurity of His manhood ; if He parts with 
His third. He parts with that perfection that capacitates Him for the office of media- 
tion. He has, therefore, another righteousness, which standeth in performance or 
obedience to a revealed will ; and that is it that He puts upon sinners, and that by 
which their sins are covered. Wherefore He saith, " As by one man's disobedi- 
ence many were made sinners, so, by the obedience of One shall many be made 
righteous. "^^ 

Chr. But are the other righteousnesses of no use to us ? 

Great. Yes ; for though they are essential to His natures and office, and so cannot 
be communicated to another, yet it is by virtue of them that the righteousness that 
justifies is for that pur[)ose efficacious. The righteousness of His Godhead gives 
virtue to His obedience ; the righteousness of His manhood giveth caj)ability to His 
obedience to justify; and the righteousness that standeth in the union of these two 




Mr. Great-heart. 



(219) 



220 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

natures to His office, giveth authority to tliat righteousness to do the work for which 
it was ordained. 

So, then, here is a righteousness that Christ, as God, has no need of; for He is God 
without it. Here is a righteousness that Christ, as man, has no need of to make Him 
so ; for He is perfect man without it. Again : there is righteousness that Christ, as 
God-man, has no need of; for He is perfectly so without it. Here, then, is a righteous- 
ness that Christ, as God and as God-man, has no need of with reference to Himself, 
and therefore He can spare it ; a justifying righteousness, that He for Himself wanteth 
not, and therefore he giveth it away. Hence it is called the gift of righteousness.^ 
This righteousness, since Christ Jesus the Lord has made Himself under the law, must 
be given away ; for the law doth not only bind him that is under it to do justly, but 
to use charity : wherefore he must, or ought by law, if he hath two coats, to give one 
to him that hath none. Now, our Lord indeed hath two coats, one for Himself and 
one to spare ; wherefore He freely bestows one upon those that have none. And thus, 
Christiana and Mercy, and the rest of you that are here, doth your pardon come by 
deed, or by the work of another man. Your Lord Christ is He that worked, and has 
given away what He wrought for to the next poor beggar He meets. 

But again : in order to pardon by deed, there must something be paid to Gotl as a 
price, as well as something prepared to cover us withal. Sin has delivered us up to 
the just curse of a righteous law. Now, from this curse we must be justified by way 
of redemption, a price being paid for the harms we have done ; and this is by the 
blood of your Lord, who came and stood in your place and stead, and died your death 
for your transgressions. Thus has He ransomed you from your transgressions by 
blood, and covered your polluted and deformed souls with righteousness,'^ for the 
sake of which God passeth by you, and will not hurt you when He comes to judge 
the world.^^ 

Chr. This is brave ! Now I see that there was something to be learnt by our being 
pardoned by word and deed. Good Mei-cy, let us labor to keep this in mind ; and, 
my children, do you remember it also. But, sir, was not this it that made my good 
Christian's burden fall from off his shoulders, and that made him give three leaps for 

joy? 

Great. Yes, it was the belief of this that cut off those strings that could not be cut 
by other means ; and it was to give him proof of the virtue of this that he was suffered 
to carry his burden to the Cross. 

Chr. I thought so; for though my heart was lightsome and joyous before, yet it is 
ten times more lightsome and joyous now. And I am persuaded by wliat I have felt. 



GREAT-HEART DISCOURSES BY THE WAY. 221 

though I have felt hut little as yet, that, if the most hurdened man in the world was 
here, and did see and believe as I now do, it would make his heart merry and blithe. 

Great. There is not only comfort and the ease of a burden brought to us by tlie 
sight and consideration of these, but an endeared affection begot in us by it ; for who 
can, if he doth but once think that pardon comes, not only by promise, but thus, but 
be affected with the way and means of his redemption, and so with the Man that hath 
wrought it for him ? 

Chr. True : methinks it makes my heart bleed, to think that He should bleed for 
me. Oh, Thou loving One ! Oh, Thou blessed One ! Thou deservest to have me: 
Thou hast bought me. Thou deservest to have me all : Thou hast paid for me ten 
thousand times more than I am worth. No marvel that this made the water stand in 
my husband's eyes, and that it made him trudge so nimbly on. I am persuaded he 
wished me with him ; but, vile wretch that I was ! I let him come all alone. Oh, 
Mercy, that thy father and mother were here ! yea, and Mrs. Timorous also ! Nay, 
I wish now with all my heart that here was Madam Wanton too. Surely, surely, their 
hearts would be affected ; nor could the fear of the one, nor the powerful lusts of the 
other, prevail with them to go home again, and refuse to become good pilgrims. 

Great. You speak now in the warmth of your affections : will it, think you, be 
always thus with you ? Besides, this is not communicated to every one, nor to every 
one that did see your Jesus bleed. There were that stood by, and that saw the blood 
run from His heart to the ground, and yet were so far off this, that instead of lament- 
ing, they laughed at Him, and instead of becoming His disciples, did harden their 
hearts against him. So that all that you have, my daughters, you have by a peculiar 
impression made by a divine contemplating upon what I have spoken to you. 
Remember that 't was told you, that the hen by her common call gives no meat to her 
chickens. This you have, therefore, by a special grace. 

Now, I saw still in my dream, that they Avent on till they were come to the place 
that Simple, and Sloth, and Presumption lay and slept in, when Christian Avent by on 
pilgrimage ; and, behold, they were hanged up in irons a little way off on the other side. 

Mer. Then said Mercy to him that was their guide and conductor, " What are 
those three men ? and for what are they hanged there ? " 

Great. These three men were men of very bad qualities : they had no mind to be 
pilgrims themselves, and whomsoever they could they hindered. They were for sloth 
and folly themselves ; and whomsoever they could persuade with, they made so too, 
and withal taught them to presume that they should do well at last. They were asleep 
when Christian went by ; and, now you go by, they are hanged. 



222 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Mer. But could they persuade any to be of their opinion? 

Great. Yes, they turned several out of the way. There was Slow-pace that they 
persuaded to do as they. They also prevailed with one Short-wind, with one No- 
heart, with one Linger-after-lust, and with one Sleepy-head, and with a young woman 
— her name was Dull — to turn out of the way and become as they. Besides, they 
brought up an ill report of your Lord, persuading others that He was a hard task- 
master. They also brought up an evil report of the good land, saying it was not half 
so good as some pretended it was. They also began to vilify His servants, and to 
count the very best of them meddlesome, troublesome busybodies. Further, they 
would call the bread of God, husks; the comforts of His children, fancies; the travel 
labor of pilgrims, things to no purpose. 

Chr. " Nay," said Christiana, " if they were such, they never shall be bewailed by 
rae : they have but what they deserve ; and I think it is well that they hang so near 
the highway, that others may see and take warning. But had it not been well if their 
crimes had been engraven on some plate of iron or brass, and left here, where they 
did their mischiefs, for a caution to other bad men ? " 

Great. So it is, as you well may perceive, if you will go a little to the wall. 

Mer. No, no : let them hang, and their names rot, and their crimes live for ever 
against them. I think it a high favor that they were hanged afore we came hither ; 
who knows, else, what they might have done to such poor women as we are ? 

Then she turned it into a song, saying : 

"Now, then, you three, hang there, and be a sign 
To all that shall against the truth combine ; 
And let him that comes after fear this end, 
If unto pilgrims he is not a friend. 
And thou, my soul, of all such men beware 
That unto holiness opposers are." 

Thus they went on till they came at the foot of the Hill Difficulty, where again 
their good friend Mr. Great-heart took an occasion to tell them of what happened 
there when Christian himself went by. So he had them first to the spring. " Lo," 
saith he, " this is the spring that Christian drank of before he went up this hill : and 
then it was clear and good ; but now it is dirty with the feet of some that are not 
desirous that pilgrims here should quench their thirst." ^* Thereat Mercy said, " And 
why so envious, trow ? " But said their guide, "It will do if taken up and put into a 
vessel that is sweet and good ; for then the dirt will sink to the bottom, and the 
water come out by itself more clear." Thus, therefore, Christiana and her com- 





Short-wixd. 



No-heart. 




Sleepy-head. 



(223) 



224 THE PJLGRUrS PROGRESS. 

panions were compelled to do. 'I'hey took it up, and put it into an earthen pot, 
and so let it stand till the dirt was gone to the bottom, and then they drank thereof. 

Next he showed them the two by-ways that were at the foot of the hill, where 
Formality and Hypocrisy lost themselves. And said he, " These are dangerous paths. 
Two were here cast away when Christian came by ; and although, as you see, these 
ways are since stopped up Avith chains, posts, and a ditch, yet there are that will 
choose to adventure here, rather than take the pains to go up this hill." 

Chr. The way of transgressors is hard.^' It is a wonder that they can get into those 
waj'^s without danger of breaking their necks. 

Great. They will venture : yea, if at any time any of the King's servants doth 
happen to see them, and doth call unto them, and tell them that they are in the wrong 
ways, and do bid them beware the danger, then they will railingly return them answer, 
and say, " As for the word that thou hast spoken unto us in the name of the King, 
we will not hearken unto thee ; but we will certainly do whatsoever thing goeth forth 
out of our own mouth. "^^ Nay, if you look a little farther, you shall see that these 
ways are made cautionary enough, not only by these posts, and ditch, and chain, but 
also by being hedged up ; yet they will choose to go there. 

Chr. They are idle : they love not to take pains : up-hill way is unpleasant to them. 
So it is fulfilled unto them as it is written, " The way of the slothful man is a hedge 
of thorns." ^^ Yea, they will rather choose to walk upon a snare than go up this hill, 
and the rest of this way to the City. 

Then they set forward, and began to go up the hill ; and up the hill they went. 
But, before they got to the top, Christiana began to pant, and said, " I dare say this 
is a breathing hill : no marvel if they that love their ease more than their souls choose 
to themselves a smoother way." Then said Mercy, " I must sit down ; " also the least 
of the children began to cry. " Come, come," said Great-heart, " sit not down here, for 
a little above is the Prince's arbor." Then took he the little boy by the hand, and led 
him up thereto. 

When they were come to the arbor, tliey were very willing to sit down, for they 
were all in a pelting heat. Then said Mercy, " How sweet is rest to them that labor,'''^ 
and how good is the Prince of pilgrims to provide such resting-places for them ! Of 
this arbor I have heard much, but I never saw it before. But here let us beware of 
sleeping ; for, as I have heard, for that it cost poor Christian dear." 

Then said Mr. Great-heart to the little ones, " Come, my pretty boys, how do you 
do ? what think you now of going on pilgrimage ? " 

" Sir," said the least, " I was almost beat out of heart ; but I thank you for lending 



THE ARBOR ON THE HILL. 225 

me a hand at ray need. And I remember now what my mother has told me, namely, 
' That the way to heaven is as up a ladder, and the way to hell is as down a hill.' 
But I rather go up the ladder to life, than down the hill to death." 

Then said Mercy, " But the proverb is, ' To go down the hill is easy.' " 

But James said (for that was his name), "The day is coming when, in my opinion, 
going down-hill will be the hardest of all." 

" That's a good boy," said his master ; " thou hast given her a right answer." 

Then Mercy smiled, but the little boy did blush. 

Chk. " Come," said Christiana, " will you eat a bit, a little to sweeten your mouths, 
while you sit here to rest your legs ? *for I have here a piece of pomegranate, which 
Mr. Interpreter put iu my hand just when I came out of his doors : he gave me also a 
piece of a honeycomb, and a little bottle of spirits." 

" I thought he gave you something," said Mercy, " because he called you aside." 

" Yes, so he did, said the other ; " but, Mercy, it shall still be as I said it should, 
when at first we came from home ; thou shalt be a sharer in all the good that I have, 
because thou so willingly didst become my companion." 

Then she gave to them, and they did eat, both Mercy and the boys. And said 
Christiana to Mr. Great-heart, " Sir, will you do as we ? " 

But he answered, " You are going on pilgrimage, and presently I shall return : 
much good may what you have do to you : at home I eat the same every day," 

Now, when they had eaten and drunk, and had chatted a little longer, their guide 
said to them, "The day wears away; if you think good, let us prepare to be going." 
So they got up to go, and the little boys went before ; but Christiana forgat to take 
her bottle of spirits with her, so she sent her little boy back to fetch it. 

Then said Mercy, " I think this is a losing place : here Christian lost his roll, and 
here Christiana left her bottle behind her. Sir, what is the cause of this ? " 

So their guide made answer, and said, " The cause is sleep or forgetfulness : some 
sleep when they should keep awake, and some forget when they should remember. 
And this is the very cause why often at the resting-places some pilgrims, in some 
things, come off losers. Pilgrims should watch, and remember what they have already 
received, under their greatest enjoyments ; but, for want of doing so, ofttimes their 
rejoicing ends in tears, and their sunshine in a cloud : witness the story of Christian 
at this place." 

When they were come to the place where Mistrust and Timorous met Christian, to 
persuade him to go back for fear of the lions, they perceived as it were a stage, and 
before it, towards the road, a broad plate, with a copy of verses written thereon, and 

29 



226 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

underneath the reason of the raising up of that stage in that i^lace rendered. The 
verses were these : 

" Let him that sees this stage take heed 
Unto his heart and tongue ; 
Lest, if he do nut, here he speed 
As some have, long agone." 

The words underneath the verses were, " This stage was built to punish such upon, 
who, through timorousness or mistrust, shall be afraid to go farther on pilgrimage. 
Also on this stage both Mistrust and Timorous were burned through the tongue with 
a hot iron, for endeavoring to hinder Christian in his journey." 

Then said Mercy, " This is mucli like to the saying of the Beloved, ' What shall be 
given unto thee, or what shall be done unto thee, thou false tongue ? Sharp arrows 
of the mighty, with coals of juniper.' "^* 

So they went on till they came within sight of the lions. Now, Mr. Great-heart was 
a strong man, so he was not afraid of a lion. But yet, when they were come up to the 
place where the lions were, the boys, that went before, were glad to cringe behind, for 
they were afraid of the lions ; so they stepped back, and went behind. 

At this their guide smiled, and said, " How now, my boys ! do you love to go before 
when no danger doth approach, and love to come behind so soon as the lions 
appear ? " 

Now, as they went up, Mr. Great-heart drew his sword, with intent to make a way 
for the pilgrims in spite of the lions. Then there appeared one that, it seems, had 
taken upon him to back the lions ; and he said to the pilgrims' guide, " What is the 
cause of your coming hither?" Now, the name of that man was Grim, or Bloody- 
man, because of his slaying of pilgrims ; and he was of the race of the giants. 

Great. Then said the pilgrims' guide, " These women and children are going on 
pilgrimage, and this is the way they must go ; and go it they shall, in spite of thee 
aiid the lions." 

Grim. This is not their way, neither shall they go therein. I am come forth to 
withstand them, and to that end will back the lions. 

Now, to say truth, by reason of the fiei'ceness of the lions, and of the grim carriage 
of him that did back them, this way had of late lain much unoccupied, and was almost 
all grown over with grass. 

Chr. Then said Christiana, " Though the highways have been unoccupied hereto- 
fore, and though the travellers have been made in times past to walk through by-paths, 
it must not be so now I am risen. ' Now I am risen a mother in Israel.' " ^* 




GlAXT GUIM. 



(227J 



228 THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 

Grim. Then he swore by the lions, " But it should," and therefore bid them turn 
aside, for they should not have passage there. 

But Great-heart their guide made first his approach unto Grim, and laid so heavily 
at him with his sword, that he forced him to a retreat. 

Grim. Then said he that attempted to back the lions, "Will you slay me upon mine 
own ground ? " 

Great. It is the King's highway that we are in, and in His way it is that thou hast 
2?laced thy lions ; but these women, and these children, though weak, shall hold on 
their way in spite of thy lions. 

And, with that, he gave him again a downright blow, and brought him u]5on his 
knees. With this blow he also broke his helmet, and with the next he cut off an arm. 
Then did the giant roar so hideously, that his voice frighted the women, and yet they 
were glad to see him lie sprawling upon the ground. Now, the lions were chained, 
and so of themselves could do nothing. 

Wherefore, when old Grim, that intended to back them, was dead, Mr. Great-heart 
said to the pilgrims, " Come now, and follow me, and no hurt shall happen to you from 
the lions." They therefore went on ; but the women trembled as they passed by 
them : the boys also looked as if they would die ; but they all got by without further 
hurt. 




CHAPTEK V. 

THE PALACE BEAUTIFUL. 

OW, then, they were within sight of the Porter's lodge, and they soon came up 
unto it ; but they made the more haste after this to go thither, because it is 
eg^ dangerous travelling there in the night. So, when they were come to the gate, 
the guide knocked, and the Porter cried, " Who is there ? " But as soon as 
the guide had said " It is I," he knew his voice, and came down ; for the guide had oft 
before that come hither as a conductor of pilgrims. When he was come down he 
opened the gate ; and, seeing the guide stand just before it (for he saw not the women, 
for they were behind him) , he said unto him, " How now, Mr. Great-heart ! what is 
your business here so late to-night ? " 



A JOYFUL RECEPTION. 229 

*' I have brought," said he, " some pilgrims hither, where, by my lord's command- 
ment, they must lodge. I had been here some time ago, had I not been opposed by 
the giant that did use to back the lions ; but I, after a long and tedious combat with 
him, have cut him off, and have brought the pilgrims hither in safety." 

Port. Will you not go in, and stay till morning ? 

Great. No, I will return to my lord to-night. 

Chr. Oh, sir, I know not how to be willing you should leave us in our pilgrimage : 
you have been so faithful and so loving to us, you have fought so stoutly for us, you 
have been so hearty in counselling of us, that I shall never forget your favor towards 
us. 

Mer. Then said Mercy, "Oh that we might have thy company to our journey's 
end ! How can such poor women as we hold out in a way so full of troubles as this 
way is, without a friend and defender ? " 

James. Then said James, the youngest of the boys, " Pray, sir, be persuaded to go 
with us, and help us, because we are so weak, and the way so dangerous as it is." 

Great. I am at my lord's commandment. If he shall allot me to be your guide 
quite through, I will willingly wait upon you. But here you failed at first ; for when 
he bid me come thus far with you, then you should have begged me of him to have 
gone quite through with you, and he would have granted your request. However, at 
present I must withdraw ; and so, good Christiana, Mercy, and my brave children, 
adieu. 

Then the Porter, Mr. Watchful, asked Christiana of her country and of her kindred. 
And she said, " I come from the City of Destruction. I am a widow woman, and my 
husband is dead : his name was Christian, the pilgrim." 

" How ! " said the Porter, " was he your husband ? " 

" Yes," said she, " and these are his children, and this " (pointing to Mercy) " is one 
of my townswomen." 

Then the Porter rang his bell, as at such times he is wont, and there came to the 
door one of the damsels, whose name was Humble-mind ; and to her the Porter said, 
** Go, tell it within that Christiana, the wife of Christian, and her children, are come 
hither on pilgrimage." 

She went in, therefore, and told it. But oh, what a noise for gladness was there 
within when the damsel did but drop that word out of her mouth ! 

So they came with haste to the Porter, for Christiana stood still at the door. Then 
some of the most grave said unto her, " Come in, Christiana, come in, thou wife of that 
good man ; come in, thou blessed woman ; come in, with all that are with thee." 



230 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

So she went in, and they followed her that were her children and her companions. 
Now, when they were gone in, they were had into a very large room, where they were 
bidden to sit down. iSo they sat down, and the chief of the house were called to see 
and welcome the guests. Then they came in, and understanding who they were, did 
salute each other with a kiss, and said, " Welcome, ye vessels of the gi-ace of God ; 
welcome to us, your friends ! " 

Now, because it was somewhat late, and because the pilgrims were weary with their 
journey, and also made faint with the siglit of the fight, and of the terrible lions, 
therefore they desired, as soon as might be, to prepare to go to rest. " Nay," said 
those of the family, "refresh yourselves first with a morsel of meat;" for they had 
prepared for them a lamb, with the accustomed sauce belonging thereto,'" for the Porter 
had heard before of their coming, and had told it to them within. So, when they had 
suppeil, and ended their prayer with a psalm, they desired they might go to rest. 

" But let us," said Christiana, " if we may be so bold as to choose, be in that chamber 
that was my husband's v/hen he was here." 

So they had them up thither, and they lay all in a room. When they were at rest, 
Christiana and JNIercy entered into discourse about things that were convenient. 

Che. Little did I think once, when my husband went on pilgrimage, that I should 
ever have followed. 

Mer. And you as little thought of lying in his bed, and in his chamber to rest, as 
you do now. 

Chr. And much less did I ever think of seeins; his face with comfort, and of Avor- 
shipping the Lord the King with him ; and yet now I believe I shall. 

Mer. Hark ! don't you hear a noise ? 

Chr. Yes, it is, as I believe, a noise of music, for joy that we are here. 

]\Ier. Wonderful ! Music in the house, music in the heart, and music also in heaven, 
for joy that we are here ! 

Thus they talked a while, and then betook themselves to sleep. So in the morning, 
when they were awake, Christiana said to Mercy, " What was the matter, that you did 
laugh in your sleep to-night? I suppose you were in a dream." 

Mer. So I was, and a sweet dreain it was ; but are you sure I laughed ? 

Chr. Yes, you laughed heartily ; but, prithee, Mercy, tell me thy dream. 

Mer. I was dreaming that I sat all alone in a solitary place, and was bemoaning of 
the hardness of my heart. Now, I had not sat there long, but methought many were 
gathered about me to see rae, and to hoar what it was that I said. So they hearkened, 
and I went on bemoaning the hardness of my heart. At this, some of them laughed 



MERCY'S DREAM. 



231 



at me, scjme called me fool, and some thrust me about. With that, methoiiglit I looked 
up, and saw one coming with wings towards me. So he came directly to me, and said, 
"Mercy, what aileth thee?" Now, when he had heard me make my comjjlaint, he 
said, " Peace be to thee ; " he also wiped mine eyes with his handkerchief, and clad me 
in silver and gold." He put a chain about my neck, and ear-rings in mine ears, and 
a beautiful crown upon my head. Then he took me by the hand, and said, " Mercy, 
come after me." So he went up, and I followed, till we came to a golden gate. Then 
he knocked ; and when they within opened, the man went in, and I followed him u^ 
to a throne upon which One sat ; and He said 
to me, " Welcome, daughter ! " The place 
looked bright and twinkling, like the stars, or 
rather like the sun ; and I thought that I saw 
your husband there. So I awoke from my 
dream. But did I laugh ? 

Chr. Laugh ! ay, and well you might, to 
see yourself so well. For you must give me 
leave to tell you, that I believe it was a good 
dream ; and that, as you have begun to find 
the first part true, so you shall find the second 
at last. " God speaks once, yea, twice, yet 
man perceiveth it not; in a dream, in a vision 
of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon 
men, in slumberings upon the bed." *" We 
need not, when abed, to lie awake to talk with 
God : He can visit us while we sleep, and 
cause us then to hear His voice. Our heart 
oftentimes wakes when we sleep ; and God can 
speak to that, either by words, by proverbs, or by signs and similitudes, as well as if 
one was awake. 

Mer. Well, I am glad of my dream ; for I hope ere long to see it fulfilled, to the 
making of me laugh again. 

Chr. I think it is now high time to rise, and to know what we must do. 

Mer. Pray, if they invite us to stay a while, let us willingly accept of the proffer. 
I am the willinger to stay a while here, to grow better acquainted with these maids. 
Methinks Prudence, Piety, and Charity have very comely and sober countenances. 

Chr. We shall see what they will do. 




' I went on bemoaning tlie hardness of my heart.' 



232 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

So, when they were up and ready, they came down ; and they asked one another 
of their rest, and if it was comfortable or not. 

Mer. "Very good," said Mercy; "it was one of the best nights' h:)dging that ever' 
I had in my life." 

Then said Prudence and Piety, " If you will be persuaded to stay here a while, you 
shall have what the house will afford." 

Char. "Ay, and that with a very good will," said Charity. 

So they consented, and stayed there about a month, or above, and became very 
profitable one to another. And because Prudence would see how Christiana had 
brought up her children, she asked leave of her to catechize them. So she gave her 
free consent. 

Then she began at the youngest, whose name was James. 

Prud. And she said, " Come, James, canst thou tell me who made thee ? " 

James. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost. 

Prud. Good boy ! And canst thou tell me who saves you ? 

James. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost. 

Prud. Good boy, still ! But how doth God tlie Father save thee ? 

James. By His grace. 

Prud. How doth God the Son save thee ? 

James. By His righteousness, death, and blood, and life. 

Prud. And how doth God the Holy Ghost save thee? 

James. By His illumination, by His renovation, and by His preservation. 

Then said Prudence to Christiana, " You are to be commended for thus bringing 
up your children. I suppose I need not ask the rest these questions, since the 
youngest of them can answer them so well. I will therefore now apply myself to 
the youngest next." 

Prud. Then she said, "Come, Joseph" (for his name was Joseph), "will you let 
me catechize you ? " 

Joseph. With all my heart. 

Prud. What is man ? 

Joseph. A reasonable creature, so made by God, as my brother said. 

Prud. What is supposed by this word, " saved ? " 

Joseph. That man, by sin, has brought himself into a state of captivity and misery. 

Prud. What is supposed by his being saved by the Trinity ? 

Joseph. That sin is so great and mighty a tyrant, that none can pull us out of its 



234 THE PILGRUrS PROGRESS. . . 

clutches but God ; and that God is so good and loving to man, as to pull him indeed 
out of this miserable state. 

Prud. What is God's design in saving of poor men ? 

Joseph. The glorifying of His name, of His grace and justice, etc., and tlie ever- 
lasting happiness of His creatures. 

Prud. "Who are they that must be saved ? 

Joseph. Those that accept of His salvation. 

Prud. Good boy, Joseph! thy mother hath taught thee well, and thou hast heark- 
ened to what she has said unto thee. 

Then said Prudence to Samuel, who was the eldest son but one : 

Prud. Come, Samuel, are you willing that I should catechize you also ? 

Sam. Yes, forsooth, if you please. 

Prud. What is heaven ? 

Sam. a place and state most blessed, because God dwelleth there. 

Prud. What is hell ? 

Sam. a place and state most woeful, because it is the dwelling-place of sin, the 
devil and death. 

Prud. Why wouldst thou go to heaven ? 

Sam. That I may see God, and serve Him without weariness ; that I may see 
Christ, and love Him everlastingly ; that I may have that fulness of the Holy Spirit 
in me, that I can by no means here enjoy. 

Prud. A very good boy, also, and one that has learned well ! 

Then she addressed herself to the eldest, whose name was Matthew ; and she said 
to him, " Come, Matthew, shall I also catechize you ? " 

Matt. With a very good will. 

Prud. I ask, then if there was ever anything that had a being antecedent to or 
before God ? 

Matt. No, for God is eternal ; nor is there anything, excepting Himself, that had 
a being until the beginning of the first day. For in six days the Lord made heaven 
and earth, the sea, and all that in them is. 

Prud. AVhat do you think of the Bible ? 

Matt. It is the holy Word of God. 

Prud. Is there nothing written therein but what you understand ? 

Matt. Yes, a great deal. 

Prud. What do you do when you meet with such places therein that you do not 
understand ? 




Mr. Brisk. 



(235) 



236 THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 

Matt. I think God is wiser than I. I pray also that He will please to let me 
know all therein that He knows will be for my good. 

Prud. How believe you as touching the resurrection of the dead ? 

Matt. I believe thej^ shall rise the same that was buried ; the same in nature, 
though not in corruption. And I believe this upon a double account : first, because 
God has promised it; secondly, because He is able to perform it. 

i Then said Prudence to the boys, " You must still hearken to your mother, for she 
' can teach you more. You must also diligently give ear to what good talk you shall 
hear from others ; for, for your sakes do they speak good things. Observe also, and 
that with carefulness, what the heavens and the earth do teach you ; but especially be 
much in the meditation of that book that was the cause of your father's becoming a 
pilgrim. I, for my part, my children, will teach you what I can while you are here 
and shall be glad if you will ask me questions that tend to godly edifying." 

Now, by that these pilgrims had been at this place a week, Mercy had a visitor 
that pretended some good-will unto her; and his name was Mr. Brisk; a man of 
some breeding, and that pretended to religion, but a man that stuck very close to 
the world. So he came once or twice, or more, to Mercy, and offered love unto her. 
Now, Mercy was of a fair countenance, and therefore the more alluring. 

Her mind also was, to be always busying of herself in doing ; for, when she had 
nothing to do for herself, she would be making of hose and garments for others, and 
would bestow them upon them that had need. And Mr. Brisk, not knowing where 
or how she disi^osed of what she made, seemed to be greatly taken, for that he found 
her never idle. " I will warrant her a good housewife," quoth he to himself 

Mercy then revealed the business to the maidens that were of the house, and 
inquired of them concerning him ; for they did know him better than she. So they 
told her that he was a very busy young man, and one who pretended to religion, but 
was, as they feared, a stranger to the power of that which is good. 

" Nay, then," said Mercy, " I Avill look no more on him ; for I purpose never to 
have a clog to my soul." 

Prudence then replied that " There needed no great matter of discouragement to 
be given to him ; her continuing so as she had begun to do for the poor would quickly 
cool his courage." 

So, the next time he comes, he finds her at her old work, a-making of things for the 
poor. Then said he, " What ! always at it ? " 

" Yes," said she, " either for myself or for others." 

"And what canst thou earn a day ? " quoth he. 



MATTHEW FALLS SICK. 237 

" I do these things," said she, " that I may be rich in good works, laying up in store 
for myself a good foundation against the time to come, that I may lay hold on eternal 
life."« 

" Why, prithee, what doest thou with them ? " said he. 

" Clothe the naked," said she. 

With that, his countenance fell. So he forbore to come at her again. And when 
he was asked the reason why, he said that " Mercy was a pretty lass, but troubled 
with ill conditions." 

When he had left her. Prudence said, " Did I not tell thee that Mr. Brisk would 
soon forsake thee? yea, he will raise up an ill report of thee; for, notwithstanding his 
pretence to religion and his seeming love to Mercy, yet Mercy and he are of tempers 
so different, that I believe they will never come together." 

Mer. I might have had husbands afore now, though I spake not of it to any; but 
they were such as did not like my conditions, though never did any of them find fault 
with my person. So they and I could not agree. 

Prud. Mercy in our days is little set by, any further than as to its name : the prac- 
tice, which is set forth by thy conditions, there are but few that can abide. 

Mer. " Well," said Mercy, " if nobody will have me, I will die a maid, or my con- 
ditions shall be to me as a husband ; for I cannot change my nature ; and to have one 
that lies cross to me in this, that I purpose never to admit of as long as I live. I had 
a sister, named Bountiful, that was married to one of these churls ; but he and she 
could never agree ; but, because my sister was resolved to do as she had begun, that is, 
to show kindness to the poor, therefore her husband first cried her down at the cross, 
and then turned her out of his doors." 

Peud. And yet he was a professor, I warrant you ? 

Mer. Yes, such a one as he was ; and of such as he the world is now full ; but I 
am for none of them at all. 

Now Matthew, the eldest son of Christiana, fell sick, and his sickness was sore upon 
him, for he was much jjained in his bowels ; so that he was with it, at times, pulled as 
it were both ends together. 

There dwelt also not far from thence one Mr. Skill, an ancient and well-approved 
physician. So Christiana desired it, and they sent for him, and he came. When he 
was entered the room, and had a little observed the boy, he concluded that he was 
sick of the gripes. Then he said to his mother, " What diet has Matthew of late fed 
upon ? " 

" Diet ! " said Christiana, " nothing but that which is wholesome." 



238 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

The physician answered, " This boy has been tampering with something that lies in 
his maw undigested, and that will not away without means. And I tell you he must 
be purged, or else he will die." 

Sam. Then said Samuel, " Mother, what was that which my brother did gather up 
and eat, so soon as we were come from the gate that is at the head of this way ? You 
know that there was an orchard on the left hand, on the other side of the wall, and 
some of the trees hung over the wall, and my brother did plash and did eat." 

Chr. " True, my child," said Christiana, " he did take thereof and did eat ; naughty 
boy as he was, I did chide him, and yet he would eat thereof" 

Skill. I knew he had eaten something that was not wholesome food ; and that food, 
to wit, that fruit, is even the most hurtful of all. It is the fruit of Beelzebub's orchard. 
I do marvel that none did warn you of it : many have died thereof. 

Che. Then Christiana began to cry, and she said, " Oh, naughty boy ! and oh, care- 
less mother ! What shall I do for my son ? " 

Skill. Come, do not be too much dejected ; the boy may do well again, but he must 
purge and vomit. 

Chk. Pray, sir, try the utmost of your skill with him, whatever it costs. 

Skill. Nay, I hope I shall be reasonable. 

So he made him a purge, but it was too weak ; it was said, it was made of the blood 
of a goat, the ashes of an heifer, and with some of the juice of hyssop, etc." When Mr. 
Skill had seen that that purge was too weak, he made him one to the purpose. It was 
made [" The Latin I borrow," remarks Bunyan in the margin] ex came et sanguine 
Christi ; *^ (you know physicians give strange medicines to their patients !) — and it was 
made up into pills, with a promise or two, and a proportionable quantity of salt.*^ 
Now, he was to take them three at a time, fasting, in half a quarter of a pint of the 
tears of repentance.*' 

When this potion was prepared and brought to the boy, he was loth to take it, 
though torn with the gripes as if he should be pulled in pieces. 

" Come, come," said the physician, " you must take it." 

" It goes against my stomach," said the boy. 

" I must have you take it," said his mother. 

" I shall vomit it up again," said the boy. 

" Pray, sir," said Christiana to Mr. Skill, " how does it taste ? " 

" It has no ill taste," said the doctor ; and with that she touched one of the pills 
with the tip of her tongue. 

" O Matthew," said she, " this potion is sweeter than honey. If thou lovest thy 




Doctor Skill, 



(239) 



240 THE PlLGRUrS PROGRESS. 

mother, if thou lovest thy brothers, if thou lovest Mercy, if thou lovest thy life, take 
it." 

So, with much ado, after a short prayer for the blessing of God upon it, he took it, 
and it wrought kindly with him. It caused him to purge, it caused him to sleep and 
rest quietly ; it j^ut him into a fine heat and breathing sweat, and did quite rid him of 
his gripes. So, in a little time he got up, and walked about with a staff, and would 
go from room to room, and talk with Prudence, Piety, and Charity, of his distemper, 
and how he was healed. 

So, when the boy was healed, Christiana asked Mr. Skill, saying, "Sir, what will 
content you for your pains and care to and of my child ? " 

And he said, " You must pay the Master of the College of Physicians,** according 
to the rules made in that case and provided." 

Chr. " But, sir," said she, " what is this pill good for else? " 

Skill. It is an universal pill : it is good against all the diseases that pilgrims are 
incident to ; and when it is well prepared, it will keep good time out of mind. 

Chr. Pray, sir, make me up twelve boxes of them ; for if I can get these, I will 
never take other physic. 

Skill. These pills are good to prevent diseases, as well as to cure when one is 
sick. Yea, I dare say it, and stand to it, that if a man will but use this physic as he 
should, it will make him live for ever."*'' But, good Christiana, thou must give these 
pills no other way than as I have prescribed ; for if you do, they will do no good. 
So he gave unto Christiana physic for herself and her boys, and for Mercy ; and 
bid Matthew take heed how he ate any more green plums; and kissed them and went 
his way. 

It was told you before, that Prudence bid the boys, if at any time they would, they 
should ask her some questions that might be profitable, and she would say something 
to them. 

Matt. Then Matthew, who had been sick, asked her, " Why, for the most part, 
physic should be bitter to our palates ? " 

Prud. To show how unwelcome the Word of God, and the effects thereof, are to a 
carnal heart. 

Matt. Why does physic, if it does good, purge and cause that we vomit? 

Prud. To show that the Word, when it works effectually, cleanseth the heart and 
mind. For look, what the one doth to the body, the other doth to the soul. 
*\ Matt. What should we learn by seeing the flame of our fire go upwards, and by 
seeing the beams and sweet influences of the sun strike downwards ? 



ALL THINGS MINISTER TO THE PILGRIMS' EDIFICATION. 241 

Prud. By the going up of the fire, we are taught to ascend to heaven by fervent 
and hot desires. And by the sun's sending his heat, beams, and sweet influences 
downwards, we are taught that the Saviour of the world, though high, reaches down 
with His grace and love to us below. 

Matt. Where have the clouds their water ? 

Prud. Out of the sea. 

Matt. What may we learn from that ? 

Prud. That ministers should fetch their doctrine from God. 

Matt. Why do they empty themselves upon the earth ? 

Prud. To show that ministers should give out what they know of God to the world. 

Matt. Why is the rainbow caused by the sun ? 

Prud. To show that the covenant of God's grace is confirmed to us in Christ. 

Matt. Why do the springs come from the sea to us through the earth ? 

Prud. To show that the grace of God comes to us through the body of Christ. 

Matt. Why do some of the springs rise out of the tops of high hills ? 

Prud. To show that the spirit of grace shall spring up in some that are great and 
mighty, as well as in many that are poor and low. 

Matt. Why doth the fire fasten upon the candle-wick ? 

Prud. To show that, unless grace doth kindle upon the heart, there will be no true 
light of life in us. 

Matt. Why is the wick, and tallow, and all, spent to maintain the light of the 
candle ? 

Prud. To show that body, and soul, and all, should be at the service of, and spend 
themselves to maintain in good condition, that grace of God that is in us. 

Matt. Why doth the pelican pierce her own breast with her bill ? 

Prud. To nourish her young ones with her blood, and thereby to show that Christ 
the Blessed so loveth His young (His people), as to save them from death by His 
blood. 

Matt. What may one learn by hearing the cock to crow ? 

Prud. Learn to remember Peter's sin and Peter's repentance. The cock's crowing 
shows also that day is coming on : let, then, the crowing of the cock put thee in mind 
of that last and terrible day of judgment. 

Now, about this time, their month was out ; wherefore they signified to those of 
the house that it was convenient for them to be up and going. Then said Joseph to 
his mother, " It is convenient that you forget not to send to the house of Mr. Inter- 

31 



242 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

preter, to pray liim to grant that Mr. Great-heart should be sent unto us, that he may 
be our conductor the rest of our way." 

" Good boy," said she, " I had ahnost forgot." So she drew up a petition, and prayed 
Mr. "Watchful the Porter to send it by some fit man to her good friend Mr. Inter- 
l^reter, who, when it was come, and he had seen the contents of the petition, said to 
the messenger, " Go, tell them that I will send him." 

When the family where Christiana was saw that they had a purpose to go forward, 
they called the whole house together, to give thanks to their King for sending of them 
such profitable guests as these. Which done, they said unto Christiana, " And shall 
we not show thee something, according as our custom is to do to pilgrims, on which 
thou mayest meditate when thou art upon the way ? " 

So they took Christiana, her children, and Mercy, into the closet, and showed 
them one of the apples that Eve did eat of, and that which she also did give to her 
husband, and that for the eating of which they were both turned out of Paradise, and 
asked her what she thought that was. 

Then Christiana said, " It is food or poison, I know not which." 

So they opened the matter to her, and she held up her hands and wondered.^" 

Then they had her to a place, and showed her Jacob's ladder. Now, at that time 
there were some angels ascending upon it.''^ So Christiana looked and looked, to see 
the angels go up, and so did the rest of the company. Then they were going into 
another place, to show them something else ; but James said to his mother, " Pray bid 
them stay here a little longer, for this is a curious sight." So they turned again, and 
stood feeding their eyes with this so pleasing a prospect. 

After this they had them into a j^lace where did hang up a golden anchor. So they 
bid Christiana take it down ; " For," said they, " you shall have it with you, for it is 
of absolute necessity that you should, that you may lay hold of that within the veil,'*^ 
and stand steadfast, in case you should meet with turbulent weather." So they were 
glad thereof. 

Then they took them, and had them to the mount upon which Abraham our father 
had offered up Isaac his son, and showed them the altar, the wood, the lire, and the 
knife ; for they remain to be seen to this very day.^^ When they had seen it, they 
held up their hands, and blessed themselves, and said, " Oh ! what a man for love to 
his Master, and for denial to himself, was Abraham ! " 

After they had showed them all these things. Prudence took them into the dining- 
room, where stood a pair of excellent vii-ginals ; so she played upon them, and turned 
what she had showed them into this excellent song, saying : 



GREAT-HEART RETURNS TO ACCOMPANY THE PILGRIMS. 243 

" Eve's apple we have showed j'ou — 

Of that be you aware ; 
You have seen Jacob's ladder too, 

Upon which angels are. 
An anchor you received have : 

But let not these suffice, 
Until, with Abra'm, you have gave 

Your best a sacrifice." 

Now, about this time, one knocked at the door. So the Porter opened, and behold, 
Mr. Great-heart was there; but when he was come in, what joy was there! For it 
came now fresh again into their minds, how, but a while ago, he had slain old Grim 
Bloodyman, the giant, and had delivered them from the lions. 

Then said Mr. Great-heart to Christiana and to Mercy, " My lord has sent each of 
you a bottle of wine, and also some jiarched corn, together with a couple of pomegra- 
nates ; he has also sent the boys some figs and raisins, to refresh you in your way." 

Then they addressed themselves to their journey ; and Prudence and Piety went 
along with them. When they came at the gate, Christiana asked the Porter if any 
one of late went by. 

He said, " No; only one some time since, who also told me that, of late, there had 
been a great robbery committed on the King's highway as you go. But he saith the 
thieves are taken, and will shortly be tried for their lives." 

Then Christiana and Mercy were afraid ; but Matthew said, " Mother, fear nothing 
as long as Mr. Great-heart is to go with us, and to be our conductor." 

Then said Christiana to the Porter, " Sir, I am much obliged to you for all the kind- 
nesses that you have shown me since I came hither, and also for that you have been 
so loving and kind to my children. I know not how to gratify your kindness ; where- 
fore, jsray, as a token of my respects to you, accept of this small mite." 

So she put a gold angel * in his hand ; and he made her a low obeisance, and said, 
" Let thy garments be always white, and let thy head want no ointment. Let Mercy 
live and not die, and let not her works be few." And to the boys he said, " i)o you 
flee youthful lusts, and follow after godliness with them that are grave and wise,"* so 
shall you put gladness into your mother's heart, and obtain praise of all that are sober- 
minded." 

So they thanked the Porter, and departed. 

Now I saw in my dream that they went forward until they were come to the brow 



An (iM Eiif;lisli coin, buai-ing the figure of an angel. 



244 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

of the hill ; where Piety, bethinking herself, cried out, " Alas ! I have forgot what I 
intended to bestow upon Christiana and her companions : I will go back and fetch it." 
So she ran and fetched it. While she was gone, Christiana thought she heard, in a 
grove a little way off on the right hand, a most curious melodious note, with words 
much like these : 

, " Througli all luy life Thy favor is 
So frankly showed to me, 
That in Thy house for evermore 
My dwelling-place shall be." 

And listening still, she thought she heard another answer it, saying : 

" For why? the Lord our God is good ; 
His mercy is for ever sure ; 
His truth at all times firmly stood, 
And shall from age to age endure." 

So Christiana asked Prudence what it was that made those curious notes.'* " They 
are," said she, " our country birds : they sing these notes but seldom, except it be at 
the spring, when the flowers appear and the sun shines warm, and then you may 
hear them all day long. I often," said she, " go out to hear them ; we also ofttimes 
keep them tame in our house. They are very fine company for us when we are 
melancholy ; also they make the woods, and groves, and solitary places places desirable 
to be in." 

By this time Piety was come again. So she said to Christiana, " Look here : I have 
brought thee a scheme of all those things that thou hast seen at our house, upon which 
thou mayest look when thou findest thyself forgetful, and call those things again to 
remembrance for thy edification and comfort." 



THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 245 




CHAPTER VI. 

THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 

OW they began to go down the hill into the Vcalley of Humiliation. It was a 
steep hill, and the way was slippery ; but they were very careful, so they got 

lo> down pretty well. When they were down in the valley, Piety said to Chris- 
tiana, " This is the place where Christian, your husband, met with the foul fiend 
Apollyon, and where they had that dreadful fight that they had : I know you cannot 
but have heard thereof But be of good courage : as long as you have here Mr. Great- 
heart to be your guide and conductor, we hope you will fare the better." 

So, when these two had committed the pilgrims unto the conduct of their guide, he 
went forward, and they went after. 

Great. Then said Mr. Great-heart, " We need not to be so afraid of this valley, 
for here is nothing to hurt us, unless we procure it to ourselves. It is true that Chris- 
tian did here meet with Apollyon, with whom he had also a sore combat; but that 
fray was the fruit of those slips that he got in his going down the hill ; for they that 
get slips there, must look for combats here. And hence it is that this valley has got 
so hard a name. For the common people, when they hear that some frightful thing 
has befallen such a one in such a place, are of an opinion that that place is haunted 
with some foul fiend or evil spirit ; when, alas ! it is for the fruit of their doing that 
such things do befall them there. This Valley of Humiliation is of itself as fruitful a 
place as any the crow flies over ; and I am persuaded, if we could hit upon it, we might 
find, somewhere hereabouts, something that might give us an account why Christian 
was so hardly beset in this place." * 

Then James said to his mother, " Lo, yonder stands a pillar, and it looks as if some- 
thing was written thereon : let us go and see what it is." So they went, and found 
there written, " Let Christian's slips before he came hither, and the battles that he met 
with in this jilace, be a warning to those that come after." 

"Lo!" said their guide, "did not I tell you that there was something hereabouts 
that would give intimation of the reason why Christian was so hard beset in this place ? " 
Then turning himself to Christiana, he said, " No disparagement to Christian, more 



246 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

tlian to many others whose hap and loss his was ; for it is easier going up than down 
this hill ; and that can be said but of few hills in all these parts of the world. But we 
will leave the good man : he is at rest ; he also had a brave victory over his enemj'. 
Let Him that dwelleth above grant that we fare no worse, when we come to be tried, 
than he. 

" But we will come again to this Valley of Humiliation. It is the best and most 
fruitful piece of ground in all these parts. It is fat ground, and, as you see, consisteth 
much in meadows ; and if a man was to come here in the summer-time, as we do now, 
if he knew not anything before thereof, and if he also delighted himself in the sight of 
his eyes, he might see that that would be delightful to him. Behold how green this 
valley is, also how beautified with lilies ! ^^ I have also known many laboring men that 
have got good estates in this valley of Humiliation ; for ' God resisteth the proud, but 
giveth grace to the humble.'" Indeed, it is a very fruitful soil, and doth bring forth 
by handfuls. Some also have wished that the next way to their Father's house were 
here, that they might be troubled no more with either hills or mountains to go over ; 
but the way is the way, and there's an end." 

Now, as they were going along and talking, they espied a boy feeding his father's 
sheep. The boy was in very mean clothes, but of a very fresh and well-favored 
countenance ; and as he sat by himself he sang. " Hark," said Mr. Great-heart, " to 
what the shepherd's boy saith." So they hearkened, and he said : 

" He that is down needs fear no fall 
He that is low, no pride ; 
He that is humble, ever shall 
Have God to be his guide. 

" I aiu content with what I have 
Little be it or much ; 
And, Lord, contentment still I crave, 
' Because Thou savest such. 

"Fulness to such a burden is. 
That go on pilgrimage ; 
Here little, and hereafter bliss, 
Is best from age to age. 

Then said their guide, " Do you hear him ? I will dare to say that this boy lives 
a merrier life, and wears more of that herb called heart's-ease in his bosom, than he 
that is clad in silk and velvet. But we will proceed in our discourse. 







The Shepherd Boy. 



(247) 



248 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

" In this valley our Lord formerly had His country house : He loved much to be 
here. He loved also to walk these meadows, for He found the air was jileasant. Be- 
sides, here a man shall be free from the noise and from the hurryings of this life. All 
states are full of noise and confusion, only the Valley of Humiliation is that empty 
and solitary place. Here a man shall not be so let and hindered in his contemplation 
as in other places he is apt to be. This is a valley that nobody walks in but those 
that love a pilgrim's life. And though Christian had the hard hap to meet here with 
Apollyon, and to enter with him into a brisk encounter, yet I must tell you that in 
former times men have met with angels here,''' have found pearls here, and have in 
this place found the words of life.*'' 

" Did I say, our Lord had here in former days His country house, and that He 
loved here to walk ? I will add, in this place, and to the people that love to trace 
these grounds. He has left a yearly revenue, to be faithfully paid them at certain 
seasons, for their maintenance by the way, and for their further encouragement to go 
on their pilgrimage." 

Sam. Now, as they went on, Samuel said to Mr. Great-heart, " Sir, I pei-ceive that 
in this valley my father and Apollyon had their battle ; but whereabout was the fight ? 
for I perceive this valley is large." 

Great. Your father had that battle with Apollyon at a place yonder before us, in a 
narrow j^assage just beyond Forgetful Green. And, indeed, that place is the most 
dangerous place in all these parts. For, if at any time the pilgrims meet with any 
brunt, it is when they forget what favors they have received, and how unworthy they 
are of them. This is the place also where others have been hard put to it. But more 
of the place when we are come to it ; for I persuade myself, that to this day there 
remains either some sign of the battle, or some monument to testify that such a battle 
there was fought. 

Mer. Then said Mercy, " I think that I am as well in this valley as I have been 
anywhere else in all our journey : the j^lace, methinks, suits with my spirit. I love to 
be in such places, where there is no rattling with coaches nor rumbling with wheels. 
Methinks here one may, without much molestation, be thinking what he is, whence he 
came, what he has done, and to what the King has called him. Here one may think, 
and break at heart, and melt in one's spirit, until one's eyes becomes like the fish-pools 
in Heshbon.'^'' They that go rightly through this Valley of Baca, make it a well ; the 
rain that God sends down from heaven upon them that are here also filleth the pools. 
This valley is that from whence also the King will give to His their vineyards ; and 
they that go through it shall sing, as Christian did, for all he met with Apollyon." "^ 



THE PLAGE WHERE CHRISTIAN FOUGHT APOLLYON. 249 

Great. " 'T is true," said their guide ; " I have gone through this valley many a 
time, and never was better than when here. I have also been a conductor to several 
pilgrims, and they have confessed the same. ' To this man will I look,' saith the King, 
'even to him that is poor and of a contrite spirit, and that trembleth at my word.' ""'^ 

Now they were come to the place where the afore-mentioned battle was fought. 
Then said the guide to Christiana, her children, and Mercy, " This is the place ; on 
this ground Christian stood, and up there came Apollyon against him. And look — 
did not I tell you ? — here is some of your husband's blood upon these stones to this 
day. Behold, also, how here and there are yet to be seen upon the place some of the 
shivers of Apollyon 's broken darts. See also how they did beat the ground with their 
feet as they fought, to make good their jjlaces against each other ; how also, with their 
by-blows, they did split the very stones in jiieces. Verily, Christian did here play the 
man, and showed himself as stout as could, had he been there, even Hercules himself. 
When Apollyon was beat, he made his retreat to the next valley, that is called the 
Valley of the Shadow of Death, unto which we shall come anon. Lo, yonder also 
stands a monument, on which is engraven this battle, and Christian's victory, to his 
fame throughout all ages." 

So, because it stood just on the way-side before them, they stepped to it, and read 
the writing, which word for word was this : 

" Hani by here was a battle fought, 
Most strange, and yet most true ; 
Christian and ApoUj'on sought 
Each other to subdue. 

"The man so bravely played the man, 
He made the fiend to fly ; 
Of which a inonument I stand, 
The same to testify." 

When they had passed by this place, they came upon the borders of the Shadow of 
Death. This valley was longer than the other ; a place also most strangely haunted 
with evil things, as many are able to testify ; but these women and children went the 
better through it, because they had daylight, and because Mr. Great-heart was their 
conductor. 

When they were entered upon this valley, they thought that they heard a groaning, 
as of dead men — a very great groaning. They thought also that they did hear words 
of lamentation spoken, as of some in extreme torment. These things made the boys 

32 



250 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

to quake ; the women also looked pale and wan ; but their guide bid them be of good 
comfort. 

So they went on a little farthei;, and they thought that they felt the ground begin to 
shake under thera, as if some hollow place was there ; they heard also a kind of hissing, 
as of serpents ; but nothing as yet appeared. Then said the boys, " Are we not yet 
at the end of this doleful place? " But the guide also bid them be of good courage, 
and look well to their feet ; " lest haply," said he, " you be taken in some snare." 

Now James began to be sick ; but I think the cause thereof was fear ; so his mother 
gave him some of that glass of spirits that had been given her at the Interpreter's 
house, and three of the pills that Mr. Skill had prepared ; and the boy began to revive. 
Thus they went on till they came to about the middle of the valley ; and then Chris- 
tiana said, " Methiuks I see something yonder upon the road before us, a thing of 
such a shape as I have not seen." Then said Joseph, " Mother, what is it? " " An 
ugly thing, child, an ugly thing," said she. " But, mother, what is it like ? " said he. 
" 'T is like I cannot tell what," said she, " and now it is but a little way off." Then 
said she, " It is nigh ! " 

" Well, well," said Mr. Great-heart, " let them that are most afraid keep close to 
me." So the fiend came on, and the conductor met it; but, when it was just come to 
him, it vanished to all their sights. Then remembered they what had been said some 
time ago, " Resist the devil, and he will flee from you." ^^ 

They went therefore on, as being a little refreshed. But they had not gone far 
before Mercy, looking behind her, saw, as she thought, something most like a lion, and 
it came a great padding j^ace after ; and it had a hollow voice of roaring, and at every 
roar that it gave it made all the valley echo, and all their hearts to ache, save the 
heart of him that was their guide. So it came up, and Mr. Great-heart went behind, 
and put the pilgrims all before him. The lion also came on apace, and Mr. Great- 
heart addressed himself to give him battle.'^ But, when he saw that it was determined 
that resistance should be made, he also drew back, and came no farther. 

They then went on again, and their conductor did go before them, till they came to 
a place where was cast up a pit the whole breadth of the way ; and before they could 
be prepared to go over that, a great mist and darkness fell upon them, so that they 
could not see. Then said the pilgrims, " Alas ! what now shall we do ? " But their 
guide made answer, " Fear not, stand still, and see what an end will be put to this also." 
So they stayed there, because their path was marred. They then also thought that 
they did hear more apparently the noise and rushing of the enemies ; the fire also, and 
the smoke of the j^it, were much easier to be discerned. Then said Christiana to 



THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 



251 



Mercy, " Now I see what my poor liusband went through. I have heard much of 
this place, but I never was hero before now. Poor man ! he went here all alone in 
the night : he had night almost quite through the vay ; also these fiends were busy 
about him, as if they would have torn him in pieces. Many have spoken of it, but 
none can tell what the Valley of the Shadow of Death should mean, until they come 
in it themselves. ' The heart knoweth its own bitterness, and a stranger intermeddleth 
not with its joy.' To be here is a fearful thing." 

Great. This is like doing business in great waters, or like going down into the deep. 
This is like being in the heart of the sea, and 
like going down to the bottoms of the moun- 
tains. Now it seems as if the earth, with its 
bars, were about us for ever. But let them 
that walk in darkness and have no light, trust 
in the name of the Lord, and stay upon their 
God."' For my part, as I have told you 
already, I have gone often through this val- 
ley, and-have been much harder jnit to it than 
now I am; and yet, you see, I am alive. I 
would not boast, for that I am not mine own 



saviour ; but I trust we shall have a good 




deliverance. Come, let us pray for light to 
Him that can lighten our darkness, and that 
can rebuke not only these, but all the Satans 
in hell. 

So they cried and jjrayed, and God sent 
light and deliverance ; for there was now no 
let in their way ; no, not there where but Heedless, 

now they were stopped with a pit. Yet they 

were not got through the valley ; so they went on still ; and behold, great stinks 
and loathsome smells, to the great annoyance of them. Then said Mercy to Chris- 
tiana, " It is not so pleasant being here as at the gate, or at the Interpreter's, or at the 
house where we lay last." 

" Oh, but," said one of the boys, " it is not so bad to go through here as it is to abide 
here always ; and, for aught I know, one reason why we must go this way to the 
house prepared for us is, that our home might be made the sweeter to us." 

" Well said, Samuel," quoth the guide ; " thou hast now spoke like a man." 



25-2 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



" Why, if ever I get out here again," said the boy, " I think I shall prize light and 
good way better than ever I did in all my life." 

Then said the guide, " We shall be out by-and-bye." 

So on they went, and Joseph said, " Cannot we see to the end of this valley as yet ? " 

Then said the guide, " Look to your feet, for we shall presently be among the snares." 

So they looked to their feet, and went on ; but they were troubled much with the 

snares. Now, when they were come among the snares, they espied a man cast into the 

ditch on the left hand, with his flesh all rent and torn. 

Then said the guide, " That is one Heedless, that was going this way ; he has lain 
there a great while. There was one Take-heed with him when he was taken and 
slain, but he escaped their hands. You cannot imagine how many are killed hereabouts ; 
and yet men are so foolishly venturous as to set out lightly on pilgrimage, and to come 

without a guide. Poor Christian ! it is a 
wonder that he here escaped ; but he was 
beloved of his God, also he had a good heart 
of his own, or else he could never have 
done it." 

Now they drew towards the end of the way ; 
and just where Christian had seen the cave 
when he went by, out thence came forth Maul, 
a giant. This Maul did use to spoil young 
pilgrims with sophistry ; and he called Great- 
heart by his name, and said unto him, " How 
many times have you been forbidden to do 
these things?" 

Then said Mr. Great-heart, " What things?" 
" What things ! " quoth the giant ; " you 
know what things ; but I will put an end to 
your trade." 

" But pray," said Mr. Great-heart, " before 
we fall to it, let us understand wherefore we 
must fight." 
Now the women and children stood trembling, and knew not what to do. 
Quoth the giant, " You rob the country, and rob it with the worst of thefts." 
" These are but generals," said Mr. Great-heart ; " come to particulars, man." 
Then said the giant, " Thou practicest the craft of a kidnajaper : thou gatherest up 




Uiaut Maul. 



GREAT-HEART ENCOUNTERS MAUL. 253 

women and children, and carriest them into a strange country, to the weakening of my 
master's kingdom." 

But now Great-heart replied, " I am a servant of the God of heaven ; my business 
is to persuade sinners to repentance. I am commanded to do my endeavor to turn 
men, women, and children from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto 
God ; and if this be indeed the ground of thy quarrel, let us fall to it as soon as thou 
wilt." 

Then the giant came up, and Mr. Great-heart went to meet him ; and as he went, 
he drew his sword, but the giant had a club. So without more ado they fell to it; 
and, at the first blow, the giant struck Mr. Great-heart down upon one of his knees. 
With that, the women and children cried out. So Mr. Great-heart, recovering himself, 
laid about him in full lusty manner, and gave the giant a wound in his arm. Thus he 
fought for the space of an hour, to that height of heat, that the breath came out of the 
giant's nostrils as the heat doth out of a boiling cauldron. 

Then they sat down to rest them ; but Mr. Great-heart betook himself to prayer. 
Also the women and children did nothing but sigh and cry all the time that the battle 
did last. 

When they had rested them, and taken breath, they both fell to it again ; and Mr. 
Great-heart with a blow fetched the giant down to the ground. " Nay, hold, and let 
me recover," quoth he. So Mr. Great-heart fairly let him get up : so to it they went 
again ; and the giant missed but little of all-to-breaking Mr. Great-heart's skull with 
his club. 

Mr. Great-heart seeing that, runs to him in the full heat of his spirit, and pierceth 
him under the fifth rib. With that the giant began to faint, and could hold up his 
club no longer. Then Mr. Great-heart seconded his blow, and smote the head of the 
giant from his shoulders. Then the women and the children rejoiced, and Mr. Great- 
heart also praised God for the deliverance He had wrought. 

When this was done, they amongst them erected a pillar, and fastened the giant's 
head thereon, and wrote under it in letters that passengers might read : 

"He that did wear this head, was one 

That pilgrims did misuse ; 
He stopped their way, he spared none, 

But did them all abuse ; 
Until that I, Great-heart, arose, 

The pilgrims' guide to be ; 
Until that I did him oppose 

That was their enemy. " 



254 THE PILGRBFS PROGRESS. 

Now, I saw that they went to the ascent that was a little way off, cast uji to be a 
prospect for pilgrims. That was the place from whence Christian had the first sight 
of Faithful his brother. Wherefore here they sat down and rested. They also here 
did eat and drink and make merry, for that they had gotten deliverance from this so 
dangerous an enemy. As they sat thus and did eat, Christiana asked the guide if he 
had caught no hurt in the battle. Then said Mr. Great-heart, " No, save a little on 
my flesh ; yet that also shall be so far from being to my detriment, that it is at present 
a proof of my love to my Master and you, and shall be a means, by grace, to increase 
my reward at last." 

Che. But were you not afraid, good sir, when you saw him come out with his club ? 

Gkeat. " It is my duty," said he, " to mistrust my own ability, that I may have 
reliance on Him who is stronger than all." 

Chr. But what did you think when he fetched you down to the ground at the first 
blow ? 

Great. " Why, I thought," replied he, " that so my Master Himself was served ; 
and yet He it was that conquered at the last." ""^ 

Matt. When you all have thought what you please, I think God has been wonderful 
good unto us, both in bringing us out of this valley, and in delivering us out of the 
hand of this enemy. For my part, I see no reason why we should distrust our God 
any more, since He has now, and in such a place as this, given us such testimony of 
His love as this. 

Then they got up and went forward. Now, a little before them stood an oak ; and 
under it, when they came to it, they found an old pilgrim fast asleep. They knew that 
he was a pilgrim by his clothes, and his staif, and his girdle. 

So the guide, Mr. Great-heart, awaked him ; and the old gentleman, as he lifted up 
his eyes, cried out, " What's the matter ? who are you, and what is your business here ? " 

Great. Come, man, be not so hot ; here are none but friends. 
, Yet the old man gets up, and stands upon his guard, and will know of them what 
they are. Then said the guide, " My name is Great-heart ; I am the guide of these 
pilgrims, that are going to the Celestial Country." 

HoxEST. Then said Mr. Honest, " I cry you mercy : T feared that you had been of 
the company of those that some time ago did rob Little-Faith of his money ; but now 
1 look better about me I perceive you are honester people." 

Great. Why, what would or could you have done to have helped yourself, if we 
indeed had been of that company ? 

Hon. Done ! why, I would have fought as long as breath had been in me ; and. 



OLD HONEST. 255 

had I so clone, I am sure you could never have given me the worst on 't, for a Christian 
can never be overcome unless he shall yield of himself. 

Great. " Well said, Father Honest," quoth the guide ; *• for by this I know thou 
art a cock of the right kind, for thou hast said the truth." 

Hon. And by this also I know that thou knovvest what true pilgrimage is ; for all 
others do think that we are the soonest overcome of any. 

Great. Well, now we are so happily met, pray let me crave your name, and the 
name of the place you came from. 

Hon. My name I cannot ; but I came from the town of Stupidity ; it lieth about 
four degrees beyond the City of Destruction. 

Great. Oh ! are you that countrvman? then I deem I have half a guess of you: 
your name is old Honesty, is it not ? 

Hon. So the old gentleman blushed, and said, " Not Honesty in the abstract, but 
Honest is my name ; and I wish that my nature may agree to what I am called. But, 
sir," said the old gentleman, " how could you guess that I am such a man, since I came 
from such a place ? " 

Great. I had heard of you before by my Master ; for He knows all things that are 
done on the earth. But I have often wondered that any should come from your place, 
for your town is worse than is the City of Destruction itself. 

Hon. Yes, we lie more off from the sun, and so are more cold and senseless. But 
were a man in a mountain of ice, yet if the Sun of Righteousness should rise upon him, 
his frozen heart shall feel a thaw ; and thus it hath been with me. 

Great. I believe it. Father Honest, I believe it ; for I know the thing is true. 

Then the old gentleman saluted all the pilgrims with a holy kiss of charity, and 
asked them their names, and how they had fared since they had set out on their 
pilgrimage. 

Chk. Then said Christiana, " My name I sujapose you have heard of: good Christian 
was my husband, and these are his children." 

But can you think how the old gentleman was taken when she told him who she 
was? He skipped, he smiled, he blessed them wuth a thousand good wishes, saying: 

Hon. I have heard much of your husband, and of his travels and wars which he 
underwent in his days. Be it spoken to your comfort, the name of your husband rings 
all over these parts of the world : his faith, his courage, his enduring, and his sincerity 
under all, have made his name famous. Then he turned him to the boys, and asked 
of them their names, which they told him. Then he said unto them, " Matthew, be 
thou like Matthew the publican, not in vice, but in virtue." Samuel," said he, "be 



256 THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 

thou like Samuel the prophet, a man of faith and prayer.*' Joseph," said he, "be 
thou like Joseph in Potiphar's house, chaste, and one that flees from temptation."^ And 
James, be thou like James the Just, and like James the brother of our Lord."'" Then 
they told him of Mercy, and how she had left her town and her kindred to come along 
with Christiana and with her sons. At that, the old honest man said, " Mercy is thy 
name? by Mercy shalt thou be sustained and carried through all those difficulties that 
shall assault thee in thy way, till thou shalt come thither where thou shalt look the 
Fountain of Mercy in the face with comfort." 

All this while the guide, Mr. Great-heart, was very well pleased and smiled upon 
his companion. 

Now, as they walked along together, the guide asked the old gentleman if he did 
not know one Mr. Fearing, that came on pilgrimage out of his parts. 

Hon. " Yes, very well," said he. " He was a man that had the root of the matter 
in him ; but he was one of the most troublesome pilgrims that ever I met with in all 
my days." 

Great. I perceive you knew him, for you have given a very right character of him. 

Hox. Knew him ! I was a great companion of his ; I was with him most an end : 
when he first began to think upon what would come upon us hereafter, I was with him. 

Great. I was his guide from my master's house to the gates of the Celestial City. 

Hon. Then you knew him to be a troublesome one ? 

Great. I did so ; but I could very well bear it, for men of my calling are oftentimes 
entrusted with the conduct of such as he was. 

Hon. Well, then, pray let us hear a little of him, and how he managed himself under 
your conduct. 

Great. Why, he was always afraid that he should come short of whither he had a 
desire to go. Everything frightened him that he heard anybody speak of, if it had 
but the least appearance of opposition in it. I hear that he lay roaring at the Slough 
of Despond for above a month together ; nor durst he, for all he saw several go over 
before him, venture, though they, many of them, offered to lend him their hand. He 
would not go back again neither. The Celestial City, he said, he should die if he came 
not to it ; and yet was dejected at every difficulty, and stumbled at every straw that 
anybody cast in his way. Well, after he had lain at the Slough of Despond a great 
while, as I have told you, one sunshine morning, I don't know how, he ventured, and 
so got over ; but, when he was over, he would scarce believe it. He had, I think, a 
Slough of Despond in his mind, a slough that he carried everywhere with him, or else 
he could never have been as he was. So he came up to the gate (you know what I 




Old Honest. 

33 



(257) 



258 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

mean) that stands at the head of this way, and here also he stood a good while before 
he would adventure to knock. When the gate was opened, he would give back, and 
give place to others, and say that he was not worthy. For, for all he got before some 
to the gate, yet many of them went in before him. There the poor man would stand 
shaking and shrinking : I dare say it would have pitied one's heart to have seen him. 
Nor would he go back again. At last, he took the hammer that hanged on the gate 
in his hand, and gave a small rap or two ; then One opened to him, but he shrank back 
as before. He that opened stepped out after him, and said, "Thou trembling one, 
what wantest thou ? " With that, he fell down to the ground. He that spoke to him 
wondered to see him so faint ; so He said to him, " Peace be to thee : up, for I have 
set open the door to thee ; come in, for thou art blessed." With that, he got up, and 
went in trembling ; and when he was in, he was ashamed to show his face. Well, after 
he had been entertained there a while, as you know how the manner is, he was bid go 
on his way, and also told the way he should take. So he came till he came to our 
house ; but as he behaved himself at the gate, so he did at my master the Interpreter's 
door. He lay thereabout in the cold a good while before he would adventure to call : 
yet he would not go back ; and the nights were long and cold then: Nay, he had a 
note of necessity in his bosom to my master, to receive him and grant him the comfort 
of his house, and also to allow him a stout and valiant conductor, because he was him- 
self so chicken-hearted a man ; and yet, for all that, he was afraid to call at the door. 
So he lay up and down thereabouts, till, poor man, he was almost starved ; yea, so 
great was his dejection, though he had seen several others for knocking get in, yet he 
was afraid to venture. At last, I think I looked out of the window, and perceiving a 
man to be up and down about the door, I went out to him, and asked what he was ; 
but, i^oor man, the water stood in his eyes ; so I perceived what he wanted. I went 
therefore in, and told it in the house, and we showed the thing to our lord : so he 
sent me out again, to entreat him to come in ; but I dare say I had hard work to do it. 
At last he came in ; and I will say that for my lord, he carried it wonderful lovingly 
to him. There were but few good bits at the table, but some of it was laid upon his 
trencher. Then he presented the note ; and my lord looked thereon, and said his 
desire should be granted. So, when he had been there a good while, he seemed to 
get some heart, and to be a little more comfortable. For my master, you must know, 
is one of very tender bowels, specially to them that are afraid ; wherefore he carried it 
so towards him as might tend most to his encouragement. Well, when he had had a 
sight of the things of the place, and was ready to take his journey to go to the City, 
my lord, as he did to Christian before, gave him a bottle of spirits, and some com- 




Mr. Fearing. 
' Here also he stood a good while before he would adventure to knock.' 



(259) 



2G0 THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 

fortable things to eat. Thus we set forward, and I went before him ; but the man was 
but of few words, only he would sigh aloud. 

When we were come to the place where the three fellows were hanged, he said that 
he doubted that that would be his end also. Only he seemed glad when he saw the 
Cross and the sepulchre. There, I confess, he desired to stay a little to look ; and he 
seemed, for a little while after, to be a little cheery. When we came at the Hill 
Difficulty, he made no stick at that, nor did he much fear the lions, for you must 
know that his trouble was not about such things as those ; his fear was about his 
acceptance at last. 

I got him in at the House Beautiful, I think, before he was willing. Also, when 
he was in, I brought him acquainted with the damsels that were of the place ; but he 
was ashamed to make himself much for company. He desired much to be alone ; yet 
he always loved good talk, and often would get behind the screen to hear it. He also 
loved much to see ancient things, and to be pondering them in his mind. He told 
me, afterwards, that he loved to be in those two houses from which he came last ; to 
wit, at the gate, and that of the Interpreter ; but that he durst not be so bold as to 
ask. 

When we went also from the House Beautiful, down the hill into the Valley of 
Humiliation, he went down as well as ever I saw a man in my life ; for he cared not 
how mean he was, so he might be happy at last. Yea, I think there was a kind of 
sympathy betwixt that valley and him ; for I never saw him better in all his pil- 
grimage than when he was in that valley. 

Here he would lie down, embrace the ground, and kiss the very flowers that grew 
in this valley."^ He would now be up every morning by break of day, tracing and 
walking to and fro in this valley. 

But when he was come to the entrance of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I 
thought I should have lost my man : not for that he had any inclination to go back — 
that he always abhorred ; but he was ready to die for fear. " Oh, the hobgoblins will 
have me ! the hobgoblins will have me ! " cried he, and I could not beat him out of it. 
He made such a noise and such an outcry here, that, had they but heard him, it was 
enough to encourage them to come and fall upon us. 

But this I took very great notice of, that this valley was as quiet while we went 
through it as ever I knew it before or since. I suppose those enemies here had now 
a special check from our Lord, and a command not to meddle until Mr. Fearing had 
passed over it. 

It would be too tedious to tell you of all, I will therefore only mention a passage or 



i 



FEARING PLAYS THE MAi\ AT VANITY FAIR. 261 

two more. When he was come at Vanity Fair, I thought he woukl have fought with 
all the men in the fair. I feared there we should both have been knocked on the 
head, so hot was he against their fooleries. Upon the Enchanted Ground he was also 
very wakeful. But, when he was come at the river where was no bridge, there again 
he was in a heavy case. Now, now, he said, he should be drowned for ever, and so 
never see that face with comfort that he had come so many miles to behold. 

And here also I took notice of what was very remarkable : the water of that river 
was lower at this time than ever I saw it in all my life: so lie went over at last, not 
much above wetshod. When he was going up to the gate, I began to take leave of 
him, and to wish him a good reception above. So he said, " I shall, I shall." Then 
parted we asunder, and I saw him no more. 

Hojf. Then it seems he was well at last ? 

Great. Yes, yes ; I never had a doubt about him. He was a man of choice spirit ; 
only he was always kept very low, and that made his life so burthensome to himself 
and so troublesome to others.'" He was, above many, tender of sin : he was so afraid 
of doing injuries to others, that he often would deny himself of that which was lawful, 
because he would not offend." 

Hon. But what should be the reason that such a good man should be all his days 
so much in the dark ? 

Great. There are two sorts of reasons for it. One is, the wise God will have it so ; 
some must pipe, and some must weep.'* Now Mr. Fearing was one that played upon 
this bass. He and his fellows sound the saekbut, whose notes are more doleful than 
the notes of other music are ; though, indeed, some say the bass is the ground of music. 
And, for my part, I care not at all for that jirofession which begins not in heaviness 
of mind. The first string that the musician usually touches is the bass, when he 
intends to put all in tune. God also plays upon this string first, when He sets the 
soul in tune for Himself. Only here was the imperfection of Mr. Fearing: he could 
play upon no other music but this till toward his latter end. 

I make bold to talk thus metaj^horically, for the ripening of the wits of young readers, 
and because, in the book of the Revelation, the saved are compared to a company of 
musicians, that play upon their trumpets and harps, and sing their songs before the 
throne.'"^ 

Hon. He was a very zealous man, as one may see by the relation which you have 
given of him. Difficulties, lions, or Vanity Fair he feared not at all ; it was only sin, 
death, and hell that were to him a terror, because he had some doubts about his interest 
in that Celestial Country. 



262 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Great. You say riglit : those were the things that were his troublers, and they, as 
you have well observed, arose from the weakness of his mind thereabout, not from 
weakness of spirit as to the practical part of a pilgrim's life. I dare believe that, as 
the proverb is, he would have bit a firebrand, had it stood in his way ; but the things 
with which he was oppressed no man ever yet could shake off with ease. 

Chr. Then said Christiana, " This relation of Mr. Fearing has done me good. I 
thought nobody had been like me ; but I see there was some semblance betwixt this 
good man and I ; only we differed in two things. His troubles were so great that 
they brake out; but mine I kept within. His also lay so hard upon him, they made 
him that he could not knock at the houses provided for entertainment ; but my trouble 
was always such as made me knock the louder." 

Mer. If I might also speak my heart, I must say that something of him has also 
dwelt in me ; for 1 have ever been more afraid of the lake, and the loss of a place in 
Paradise, than I have been of the loss of other things. Oh, thought I, may I have 
the happiness to have a habitation there, it is enough, though I part with all the world 
to win it ! 

Matt. Then said Matthew, " Fear was one thing that made me think that I was 
far from having that within me Avliich accompanies salvation. But if it were so with 
such a good man as he, why may it not also go well with me? " 

James. " No fears, no grace," said James, " Though there is not always grace where 
there is the fear of hell, yet, to be sure, there is no grace where there is no fear of 
God." 

Great. Well said, James ; thou hast hit the mark. For the fear of God is the 
beginning of wisdom ; and, to be sure, they that want the beginning have neither 
middle nor end. But we will here conclude our discourse of Mr. Fearing, after we 
have sent after him this farewell : 

" Well, Master Fearing, tliuu didst fear 
' Thy God, and wast afraid 

Of doing anything while here 
That would have thee betrayed. 

" And didst thou fear the lake and pit? 
Would others did so too ! 
For, as for them that want thy wit. 
They do themselves undo." 

Now I saw that they still went on in their talk ; for, after Mr. Great-heart had made 
an end with Mr. Fearing, Mr. Honest began to tell them of another, but his name was 



CHARACTER OF SELF-WILL. 



263 



Mr. Self-will. " He pretended himself to be a pilgrim," said Mr. Honest, " but I per- 
suade myself he never came in at the gate that stands at the head of the way." 

Great. Had you ever any talk with him about it ? 

Hon. Yes, more than once or twice ; but he would always be like himself, self-willed. 
He neither cared for man, nor argument, nor yet example ; what his mind prompted 
him to, that he would do, and nothing else could he be got to do. 

Great. Pray, Avliat principles did he hold ? for I suppose you can tell. 

HojV. He held that a man might follow the vices as well as the virtues of ]iilgriras ; 
and that, if he did both, he should be certainly 
saved. 

Great. How ! If he had said it is possible 
for the best to be guilty of the vices, as well 
as to partake of the virtues, of pilgrims, he 
could not much have been blamed; for, indeed, 
we are exempted fi'om no vice absolutely, but 
on condition that we watch and strive. But 
this, I perceive, is not the thing ; but, if I 
understood you right, your meaning is that he 
was of opinion that it was allowable so to be. 

Hon. Ay, ay, so I mean, and so he believed 
and practiced. 

Great. But what grounds had he for his so 



saying ? 

Hon. Why, he said he had the Scripture 
for his Avarrant. 

Great. Prithee, Mr. Honest, present us 
with a few particulars. 

Hon. So I will. He said. To have to do with other men's wives had been practiced 
by David, God's beloved ; and therefore he could do it. He said, To have more 
women than one was a thing that Solomon practiced ; and therefore he could do it. 
He said that Sarah and the godly midwives of Egypt lied, and so did Rahab ; and 
therefore he could do it. He said that the disciples went at the bidding of their 
INIaster, and took away the owner's ass ; and therefore he could do so too. He said 
that Jacob got the inheritance of his father in a way of guile and dissimulation ; and 
therefore he could do so too. 




Self-will. 



Great. Highly base, indeed ! And you are sure he was of this opinion ? 



264 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Hon. I have heard him plead for it, bring Scripture for it, bring argument for it, etc. 

Great. An opinion that is not fit to be with any allowance in the world ! 

Hon. You must understand me rightly : he did not say that any man might do this ; 
but that they who had the virtues of those that did such things, might also do the same. 

Great. But what more false than such a conclusion ? For this is as much as to say 
that, because good men heretofore have sinned of infirmity, therefore he had an allow- 
ance to do it of a presumptuous mind ; or if, because a child, by the blast of the wind, 
or for that it stumbled at a stone, fell down and defiled itself in the mire, therefore he 
might wilfully lie down and wallow like a boar therein. Who could have thought that 
anyone could so far have been blinded by the power of lust? But what is written 
must be true: they "stumble at the Word, being disobedient ; whereunto also they 
were appointed."'"' His supposing that such may have the godly man's virtues, who 
addict themselves to their vices, is also a delusion as strong as the other. To eat up 
the sin of God's people" as a dog licks up filth, is no sign of one that is possessed 
with their virtues. Nor can I believe that one who is of this opinion can at present 
have faith or love in him. But I know you have made strong objections against him : 
prithee, what can he say for himself? 

Hon. Why, he says, " To do this by way of opinion, seems abundantly more honest 
ihan to do it and yet hold contrary to it in opinion." 

Great. A very wicked answer. For, though to let loose the bridle to lusts while 
our opinions are against such things is bad ; yet to sin, and plead a toleration so to do, 
is worse. The one stumbles beholders accidentally, the other pleads them into the 
snare. 

Hon. There are many of this man's mind, that have not this man's mouth ; and that 
makes going on pilgrimage of so little esteem as it is. 

Great. You have said the truth, and it is to be lamented ; but he that feareth the 
King of Paradise shall come out of them all. 

Chr. There are strange opinions in the world. I know one that said it was time 
enough to repent when they come to die. 

Great. Such are not over-wise. That man would have been loth, might he have 
had a week to run twenty miles in for his life, to have deferred that journey to the last 
hour of that week. 

Hon. You say right ; and yet the generality of them who count themselves pilgrims 
do indeed do thus. I am, as you see, an old man, and have been a traveller in this 
road many a day, and I have taken notice of many things. I have seen some that 
have set out as if they would drive all the world afore them, who yet have, in a few 



EMERTAINED BY GAIUS. 265 

days, died as they in the wiklerness, and so never got sight of the promised land. I 
have seen some that have promised nothing at first, setting out to be pilgrims, and that 
one would have thought could not have lived a day, that have yet proved very good 
pilgrims. I have seen some that have run hastily forward, that again have, after a little 
time, run just as fast back again. I have seen some who have spoken very well of a 
pilgrim's life at first, that, after a while, have spoken as much against it. I have heard 
some, when they first set out for Paradise, say positively there is such a place, who, 
when they have been almost there, have come back again, and said there is none. I 
have heard some vaunt what they would do in case they should be opposed, that have, 
even at a false alarm, fled faith, the pilgrim's way, and all. 

Now, as they were thus in their way, there came one running to meet them, and 
said, " Gentlemen, and you of the weaker sort, if you love life, shift for yourselves, for 
the robbers are before you." 

Great. Then said Mr. Great-heart, " They be the three that set upon Little-Faith 
heretofore. Well," said he, " we are ready for them." 

So they went on their way. Now they looked at every turning when they should 
have met with the villains ; but whether they heard of Mr. Great-heart, or whether 
they had some other game, they came not up to the pilgrims. 



CHAPTER VII. 




ENTERTAINED BY GAIUS. 

_ ^'^^ JJRISTIANA then wished for an inn for herself and her children, because they 
were weary. 

Then said Mr. Honest, " There is one a little before us, where a very honor- 
able disciple, one Gains, dwells."''* So they all concluded to turn in thither, 
and the rather because the old gentleman gave him so good a report. When they 
came to the door, they went in, not knocking, for folks use not to knock at the door 
of an inn. Then they called for the master of the house, and he came to them ; so 
they asked if they might lie there that night. 

Gaius. Yes, gentlemen, if you be true men, for my house is for none but pilgrims. 

34 



266 



THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 



Then were Christiana, Mercy, and the boys the more glad, for that the Innkeeper 
was a lover of pilgrims. So they called for rooms, and he showed them one for 
Christiana, and her children, and Mercy, and another for JNIr. Great-heart and the old 
gentleman. 

Great. Then said Mr. Great-heart, "Good Gains, what hast thou for supper? for 
these pilgrims have come far to-day, and are weary." 

Gaius. "It is late," said Gains, "so we cmnot conveniently go out to seek food; 
but such as we have you shall be welcome to, if that will content." 

Great. We will be content with what thou 
hast in the house ; forasmuch as I have proved 
thee, thou art never destitute of that which is 
convenient. 

Then he went down and spake to the cook, 
whose name was Taste-that-which-is-good, to 
get ready supper for so many pilgrims. This 
done, he came up again, saying, " Come, my 
good friends, you are welcome to me, and I 
am glad that I have a house to entertain you 
in ; and, while supper is making ready, if you 
please, let us entertain one another with some 
good discourse." 

So they all said, " Content." 
Gaius. Then said Gaius, " Whose wife is 
this aged matron? and whose daughter is this 
young damsel?" 

Great. The woman is the wife of one Chris- 
tian, a pilgrim of former times ; and these are 
his four children. The maid is one of her acquaintance, one that she hath persuaded 
to come with her on pilgrimage. The boys take all after their father, and covet to 
tread in his steps; yea, if they do but see any place where the old pilgrim liath lain, 
or any print of his foot, it ministereth joy to their hearts, and they covet to lie or tread 
in the same. 

Gaius. Then said Gaius, " Is this Christian's wife, and are these Christian's children? 
I knew your husband's father ; yea, also his father's father. Many have been good of - 
this stock ; their ancestors dwelt first at Antioch.'''' Christian's progenitors (I suppose 
you have heard your husband talk of them) were very worthy men. They have, above 




G.iius. 



THE FAMILY OF THE CHRISTIANS. 



267 



any that I know, showed themselves men of great virtue and courage, for the Lord of 
jiilgrims, His ways, and them that loved Him. I have heard of many of your hus- 
band's relations that have stood all trials for the sake of the truth. Stephen, who was 
one of the first of the family from whence your husband sprang, was knocked on the 
head with stones.^" James, another of this generation, was slain with the edge of the 
sword.*^ To say nothing of Paul and Peter, men anciently of the family from whence 
your husband came, there was Ignatius, who was cast to the lions ; Romanus, whose 
flesh was cut by pieces from his bones ; and Polycarp, that played the man in the 
fire ; there was he that was hanged up in a basket in the sun for the wasps to eat ; 
and he whom they put into a sack, and cast 
him into the sea to be drowned. It would be 
utterly impossible to count up all of that family 
who have suffered injuries and death for the 
love of a pilgrim's life. Nor can I but be glad 
to see that thy husband has left behind him 
four such boys as these. I hope they will bear 
out their father's name, and tread in their 
father's stejjs, and come to their father's end." 

Great. Indeed, sir, they are likely lads ; 
they seem to choose heartily their father's 
ways. 

Gaius. That is it that I said ; wherefore 
Christian's family is like still to spread abroad 
ujDon the face of the ground, and yet to be 
numerous upon the face of the earth. Where- 
fore let Christiana look out some damsels for 
her sons, to whom they may be betrothed, 
etc., that the name of their father and the 
house of his progenitors may never be forgotten in the world. 

Hox. 'T is pity this family should fall and be extinct. 

Gaius. Fall it cannot, but be diminished it may ; but let Christiana take ray advice, 
and that is the way to uphold it. "And Christiana," said this Innkeeper, "I am glad 
to see thee and thy friend Mercy together here, a lovely couple. And may I advise, 
take Mercy into a nearer relation to thee ; if she will, let her be given to Matthew, 
thy eldest son. It is the way to preserve you a posterity in the earth." 




Taste-that-w!ik'Ii-is-Koo(l. 



268 TEE PILGRDPS PROGRESS. 

So this matcli was concluded, and in process of time tliev were married ; but more 
of that hereafter. 

Gains also proceeded, and said, " I will now speak on the behalf of women, to take 
away their reproach. For as death and the curse came into the world by a woman,^- 
so also did life and health : ' God sent forth His Son, made of a woman.' *^ Yea, to 
show how much they that came after did abhor the act of their mother, this sex in the 
Old Testament coveted children, if happily this or that woman might be the mother 
of the Saviour of the world. I will say again, that when the Saviour was come, women 
rejoiced in Him before either man or angel.*^ I read not that man ever gave unto 
Christ so much as one groat ; but the women followed Him, and ministered to Him of 
their substance.^ 'T was a woman that washed His feet with tears,** and a woman that 
anointed His body to the burial. They were women that wept when He was going to 
the cross,^" and women that followed Him from the cross ; and that sat over against 
the sepulchre when He was buried. They were women that were first with Him at 
His resurrection-morn,*^ and women that brought tidings first to His disciples that He 
was risen from the dead. Women, therefore, are highly favored, and show by these 
things that they are sharers with us in the grace of life." 

Xow the cook sent up to signify that supper was almost ready, and sent one to lay 
the cloth, the trenchers, and to set the salt and bread in order. 

Then said Matthew, " The sight of this cloth, and of this forerunner of the supper, 
begetteth in me a greater appetite to my food than I had before." 

Gaius. So let all ministering doctrines to thee in this life beget in thee a greater 
desire to sit at the supper of the great King in His kingdom ; for all preaching, books, 
and ordinances here, are but as the laying of the trenchers, and as setting of salt ujjon 
the board, when compared with the feast which our Lord will make for us when we 
come to His house. 

So supper came up. And first a heave-shoulder and a wave-breast were set on the 
table before them, to show that they must begin their meal with prayer and praise to 
God. The heave-shoulder David lifted up his heart to God with ; and with the wave- 
breast, where his heart lay, he used to lean upon his harp when he played.*' These 
two dishes were very fresh and good, and they all ate heartily well thereof 

The next they brought up was a bottle of wine, red as blood. So Gaius said to 
them, " Drink freely : this is the true juice of the vine, that makes glad the heart of 
God and man." So they drank and were merry.'" The next was a dish of milk, well 
crumbed ; but Gaius said, " Let the boys have that, that they may grow thereby." '^ 

Then they brought up in course a dish of butter and honey. Then said Gaius, " Eat 



THE SUPPER AT GAIUS'S HOUSE. 269 

freely of this, for this is good to cheer up and strengthen your judgments and under- 
standings. This was our Lord's dish when He was a child : ' Butter and honey shall 
He eat, that He may know to refuse the evil and choose the good.' " "^ 

Then they brought them up a dish of apples, and they were very good tasted fruit. 
Then said Matthew, " May we eat apples, since they were such by and with which the 
serpent beguiled our first mother ? " 

Then said Gains : 

"Apples were they with wliioh we were beguiled ; 
Yet sin, not apples, hath our souls defiled. 
Apples forbid, if ate, corrupt the blood ; 
To eat such, when commanded, does us good. 
Drink of His flagons, then, thou Church, His dove, 
And eat His apples who are sick of love." 

Then said Matthew, " I made the scruple, because I, a while since, was sick with 
eating of fruit." 

Gaius. Forbidden fruit will make you sick ; but not what our Lord has tolerated. 

While they were thus talking, they were presented with another dish, and it was a 
dish of nuts."* Then said some at the table, " Nuts spoil tender teeth, specially the 
teeth of children ; " which, when Gaius heard, he said : 

" Hard texts are nuts (I will not call them cheaters), 
Whose shells do keep their kernels from the eaters ; 
Ope then the shells, and you shall have the meat : 
They here are brought for you to crack and eat." 

Then were they very merry, and sat at the table a long time, talking of many things. 
Then said the old gentleman, " My good landlord, while we are cracking your nuts, if 
you please, do you open this riddle : 

" A man there was, though some did count him mad, 
The more he cast away, the more he had. ' ' 

Then they all gave good heed, wondering what good Gaius would say : so he sat 
still awhile, and then thus replied : 

" He that bestows his goods upon the poor 
Shall have as much again, and ten times more." 

Then said Joseph, " I dare say, sir, I did not think you could have found it out." 
" Oh ! " said Gaius, " I have been trained up in this way a great while : nothing 



270 



THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 



teaches like experience. I have learned of my Lord to be kind, and have found by- 
experience that I have gained thereby. 'There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth; 
and there is that witliholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty.' ' There is 
that maketh himself rich, yet hath nothing ; there is that maketh himself poor, yet 
hath great riches.' " "* 

Then Samuel whispered to Christiana, his mother, and said, "Mother, this is a very 
good man's house; let us stay here a good while, and let my brother Matthew be 

married here to Mercy before we go any 
farther." The which Gains, the host, over- 
hearing, said, " With a very good will, my 
child." 

So they stayed there more than a month, 
and Mercy was given to Matthew to wife. 
While they stayed here, Mercy, as her cus- 
tom was, would be making coats and garments 
to give to the poor, by which she brought up 
a very good report upon the pilgrims. 

But to return again to our story. After 
supper, the lads desired a bed, for that they 
were weary with travelling. Then Gaius 
called to show them their chamber ; but said 
Mercy, " 1 will have them to bed." So she 
had them to bed, and they slept well ; but the 
rest sat up all night, for Gains and they were 
such suitable company, that they could not 
tell how to part. 

Then, after much talk of their Lord, themselves, and their journey, old Mr. Honest, 
he that put forth the riddle to Gaius, began to nod. 

Then said Great-heart, " What, sir ! you begin to be drowsy ? Come, rub up. Now, 
here's a riddle for you." 

Then said Mr. Honest, " Let us hear it." 
Then said Mr. Great-heart : 




Mercy and Matthew. 



" He that will kill, must first be overcome ; 

Who live abroad would, first must die at home.' 



" Ha ! " said xMr. Honest, " it is a hard one ; hard to expound, and harder to practice. 




' Mercy, as lier custuni was, wmiUl !»■ iiiakin _' coats aiul 'garments to give to the pour." (271) 



272 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

But come, landlord," said lie, " I will, if you please, leave my part to you : do you 
expound it, and I will hear what you say." 

" No," said Gains, "it was put to you, and it is expected you should answer it," 

Then said the old gentleman : 

He first by grace must conquered be, 

That sin would mortify ; 
And who that lives would convince me, 

Unto himself must die." 

"It is right," said Gains; "good doctrine and experience teach this. For, first, 
until grace displays itself, and overcomes the soul with its glory, it is altogether without 
heart to oppose sin. Besides, if sin is Satan's cord, hy which the soul lies hound, how 
should it make resistance before it is loosed from that infirmity ? Secondly, nor will 
any one that knows either reason or grace believe that such a man can be a living 
monument of grace that is a slave to his own corruptions. And, now it comes into 
my mind, I will tell you a story worth the hearing. There were two men that went 
on pilgrimage ; the one began when he was young, the other when he was old. The 
young man had strong corruptions to grapple with ; the old man's were decayed with 
the decays of nature. The young man trod his stejss as even as did the old one, and 
was every way as light as he. Who now, or which of them, had their graces shining 
clearest, since both seemed to be alike? 

Hon. The young man's doubtless ; for that which heads it against the greatest 
opposition, gives best demonstration that it is strongest ; specially when it also holdeth 
pace with that which meets not with half so much, as, to be sure, old age does not. 
Besides, I have observed that old men have blessed themselves with this mistake ; 
namely, taking the decays of nature for a gracious conquest over corruptions, and so 
have been apt to beguile themselves. Indeed, old men that are gracious are best able 
to give advice to them that are young, because they have seen most of the emptiness 
of things ;' but yet, for an old and a young [man] to set out both together, the young 
one has the advantage of the fairest discovery of a work of grace within him, though 
the old man's corruptions are naturally the weakest. 

Thus they sat talking till break of day. Now, when the family were up, Christiana 
bade her son James read a chapter ; so he read the fifty-third of Isaiah. When he 
had done, Mr. Honest asked why it was said that the Saviour was to come out of a 
dry ground ; and also that He had no form nor comeliness in Him. 

Gkeat. Then said Mr. Great-heart, " To the first I answer, because the Church of 



SLAY-GOOD DESTROYED AXD FEEBLE-MIND RESCUED. 273 

the Jews, of which Christ came, had then lost almost all the sap and spirit of religion. 
To the second I say. The words are spoken in the person of the unbelievers, who, 
because they want that eye that can see into our prince's heart, therefore they judge 
of Him by the meanness of His outside; just like those that know not that precious 
stones are covered over with a homely crust, who, when they have found one, because 
they know not what they have found, cast it again away, as men do a common stone." 

" Well," said Gains, " now you are here, and since, as I know Mr. Great-heart is 
good at his weapons, if you please, after we have refreshed ourselves, we will walk 
into the fields, to see if we can do any good. About a mile from hence there is one 
Slay -good, a giant, that doth much annoy the King's highway in these parts ; and I 
know whereabout his haunt is. He is master of a number of thieves : 't would be 
well if we could clear these parts of him." 

So they consented and went ; Mr. Great-heart with his sword, helmet, and shield, 
and the rest with spears and staves. 

When they were come to the place where he was, they found him with one Feeble- 
mind in his hands, whom his servants had brought unto him, having taken him in the 
way. Now the giant was rifling of him, with a purpose after that to pick his bones ; 
for he was of the nature of flesh-eaters. 

AVell, so soon as he saw Mr. Great-heart and his friends at the mouth of his cave 
with their weapons, he demanded what they wanted. 

Great. We want thee, for we are come to revenge the quarrel of the many that thou 
hast slain of the pilgrims, when thou has dragged them out of the King's highway ; 
wherefore come out of thy cave. 

So he armed himself and came out; and to battle they went, and fought for above 
an hour, and then stood still to take wind. 

Slay. Then said the giant, " Why are you here on my ground ? " 

Great. To revenge the blood of pilgrims, as I told thee before. 

So they went to it again, and the giant made Mr. Great-heart give back ; but he 
came up again, and in the greatness of his mind he let fly with such stoutness at the 
giant's head and sides, that he made him let his weapon fall out of his hand. Bo he 
smote him, and slew him, and cut off" his head, and brought it away to the inn. He 
also took Feeble-mind, the pilgrim, and brought him with him to his lodgings. When 
they were come home, they showed his head to the family, and then set it up as they 
had done others before, for a terror to those that should attempt to do as he hereafter. 

Then they asked Mr. Feeble-mind how he fell into his hands. 

Feeble. Then said the i^oor man, "I am a sickly man, as you see; and because 

35 



274 THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 

death did usually once a day knock at my door, I thought I should never be well at 
home : so I betook myself to a pilgrim's life, and have travelled hither from the town 
of Uncertain, where I and my father were born. I am a man of no strength at all of 
body, nor yet of mind, but would, if I could, though I can but crawl, spend my life in 
the pilgrims' way. When I came at the gate that is at the head of the way, the Lord 
of that jDlace did entertain me freely ; neither objected He against my weakly looks, 
nor against my feeble mind, but gave me such things as were necessary for my journey, 
and bid me hope to the end. When I came to the house of the Interpreter, I received 
much kindness there ; and because the Hill Difficulty was judged too hard for me, I 
was carried up that by one of his servants. Indeed, I have found much relief from 
pilgrims : though none were willing to go so softly as I am forced to do, yet still as 
they came on they bid me be of good cheer, and said that it was the will of their Lord 
that comfort should be given to the feeble-minded,"^ and so went on their own pace. 
When I was come to Assault Lane, then this giant met with me, and bid me prepare 
for an encounter. But, alas ! feeble one that I was, I had more need of a cordial ; so 
he came up and took me. I conceited he should not kill me. Also when he got me 
into his den, since I went not with him willingly, I believed I should come out alive 
again ; for I liave heard that not any pilgrim that is taken captive by violent hands, 
if he keeps heart-whole towards his Master, is, by the laws of Providence, to die by the 
hands of the enemy. Robbed I looked to be, and robbed to be sure I am ; but I have, 
as you see, escaped with life, for the which I thank my King as author, and you 
as the means. Other brunts I also look for ; but this I have resolved on — to wit, to 
run when I can, to go when I cannot run, and to creep when I cannot go. As to the 
main, I thank Him that loves me, I am fixed : ray way is before me, my mind is 
beyond the river that has no bridge, though I am, as you see, but of a feeble mind." 

HoN^. Then said old Mr. Honest, " Have not you some time ago been acquainted 
with one Mr. Fearing, a pilgrim ? " 

Feebli;. Acquainted with him ! yes ; he came from the town of Stupidity, which 
lies four degrees northward of the City of Destruction, and as many off of where I 
was born ; yet we were well acquainted, for indeed he was my uncle, my father's 
brother. He and I have been much of a temper : he was a little shorter than I, but 
yet we were much of a complexion. 

Hon. I perceive you know him, and I am apt to believe also that you are related 
one to another ; for you have his whitely look, a cast like his with your eye, and your 
speech is much alike. 




Mk. Feeble-mind and Mr. Ready-to-halt. 
• Gather than we will part, since we are thus happily met, I will lend thee one of my crutches.' " (275) 



276 THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 

. Feeble. Most have said so that have known us both ; and besides, what I have 
read in him I have for the most part found in myself 

Gaius. " Come, sir," said good Gains, " be of good cheer : you are welcome to me 
and to my house. What thou hast a mind to, call for freely ; and what thou wouldst 
have my servants do for thee, they will do it with a ready mind." 

Then said Mr. Feeble-mind, " This is an unexpected favor, and as the sun shining 
out of a very dark cloud. Did Giant Slay-good intend me this favor when he stopped 
me, and resolved to let me go no farther ? Did he intend that, after he had rifled my 
pockets, I should go to Gaius, mine host? Yet so it is." 

Now, just as Feeble-mind and Gaius were thus in talk, there came one running, 
and called at the door, and said, that " About a mile and a half off there was one Mr. 
Not-right, a pilgrim, struck dead upon the place where he was, with a thunderbolt." 

Feeble. "Alas ! " said Mr. Feeble-mind, " is he slain ? He overtook me some days 
before I came so far as hither, and would be my company-keeper. He also was with 
me when Slay-good, the giant, took me ; but he was nimble of his heels, and escaped; 
but it seems he escaped to die, and I was taken to live. 

"What, one would think, doth seek to slay outright, 
Ofttimes delivers from the saddest plight, 
That very Providence, whose face is deatli. 
Doth ofttinies to the lowly life bequeath. 
I was taken, he did escape and flee ; 
Hands crossed gives death to him, and life to lue. " 

Now, about this time, Matthew and Mercy were married ; also Gaius gave his 
daughter Phoebe to James, Matthew's brother, to wife ; after which time, they yet 
stayed about ten days at Gaius's house, spending their time and the seasons like as 
pilgrims use to do. 

AVhen they were to depart, Gaius made them a feast, and they did eat and drink 
and were merry. Now, the hour was come that they must be gone, wherefore Mr. 
Great-heart called for a reckoning. But Gaius told him that at his house it was not 
the custom of pilgrims to pay for their entertainment. He boarded them by the year, 
but looked for his pay from the Good Samaritan, who had promised him, at His return, 
whatsoever charge he was at with them, faithfully to repay him.* 

Then said Mr. Great-heart to him, 

Great. Beloved, thou doest faithfully, whatsoever thou doest to the brethren and- 
to strangers, which have borne witness of thy charity before the Church ; whom if 
thou yet bring forward on their journey after a godly sort, thou shalt do well.^' 



FEEBLl MIND FINDS A SUITABLE COMPANION. 277 

Theu Gains took his leave of them all, and his children, and particularly of Mr. 
Feeble-mind. He also gave him something to drink by the way. 

Now, Mr. Feeble-mind, when they were going out of the door, made as if he 
intended to linger. The which when Mr. Great-heart espied, he said, " Come, Mr. 
Feeble-mind, Y>vay do you go along with us : I will be your conductor, and you shall 
fare as the rest." 

Feeble. Alas! I want a suitable companion. You are all lusty and strong, but I, 
as you see, am weak ; I choose, therefore, rather to come behind, lest, by reason of 
my many infirmities, I should be both a burden to myself and to you. I am, as I said, 
a man of a weak and feeble mind, and sliall be offended and made weak at that which 
others can bear. I shall like no laughing ; I shall like no gay attire ; I shall like no 
unprofitable questions. Nay, I am so weak a man as to be offended with that which 
others have a liberty to do. I do not yet know all the truth ; I am a very ignorant 
Christian man. Sometimes, if I hear any rejoice in the Lord, it troubles me, because 
I cannot do so too. It is with me as it is with a weak man among the strong, or as 
with a sick man among the healthy, or as a lamp despised. " He that is ready to slip 
with his feet is as a lamp despised in the thought of him that is at ease ; " "^ so that I 
know not what to do. 

Great. " But, brother," said Mr. Great-heart, " I have it in commission to comfort 
the feeble-minded and to suj^port the weak. You must needs go along with us : we 
will wait for you ; we will lend you our help ; we will deny ourselves of some things 
both opinionative and practical, for your sake ; we will not enter into doubtful disputa- 
tions before you ! we will be made all things to you, rather than you shall be left 
behind." '' 

Now, all this while they were at Gaius's door, and, behold, as they were thus in the 
heat of their discourse, Mr. Ready-to-halt came by, with his crutches in his hands;™ 
and he also was going on pilgrimage. 

Feeble. Then said Mr. Feeble-mind to him, " How earnest thou hither? I was 
but now comjjlainiug that I had not a suitable companion, but thou art according to 
my wish. Welcome, welcome, good Mr. Ready-to-halt ; I hope thou and I maybe 
some help." 

Ready. " I shall be glad of thy company," said the other ; " and, good Mr. Feeble- 
mind, rather than we will part, since we are thus happily met, I will lend thee one of 
my crutches." 

Feeble, " Nay," said he, " though I thank thee for thy good-will, I am not inclined 



278 THE PILGRDPS PROGRESS. 

to halt before I am lame. Howbeit, I think, when occasion is, it may help me against 
a dog." 

Ready. If either myself or my crutches can do thee a pleasure, we are both at thy 
command, good Mr. Feeble-mind. 

Thus, therefore, they went on. Mr. Great-heart and Mr. Honest went before, Chris- 
tiana and her children went next, and Mr. Feeble-mind came behind, and Mr. Ready- 
to-halt with his crutches. Then said Mr. Honest, 

Hon. Pray, sir, now that we are upon the road, tell us some profitable things of 
some that have gone on pilgrimage before us. 

Great. With a good will. I suppose you have heard how Christian of old did meet 
with Apollyon in the Valley of Humiliation, and also what hard work he had to go 
through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Also I think you cannot but have heard 
how Faithful was put to it by Madam Wanton, with Adam the First, with one Dis- 
content, and Shame ; four as deceitful villains as a man can meet with upon the 
road. 

Hon. Yes, I believe I have heard of all this ; but, indeed, good Faithful was hardest 
put to it with Shame : he was an unwearied one. 

Great. Ay ; for, as the pilgrim well said, he of all men had the wrong name. 

Hon. But pray, sir, where was it that Christian and Faithful met Talkative ? That 
same was also a notable one. 

Great. He was a confident fool ; yet many follow his ways. 

Hon. He had liked to have beguiled Faithful. 

Great. Ay, but Christian put him into a way quickly to find him out. 

Thus they went on till they came to the place where Evangelist met with Christian 
and Faithful, and prophesied to them what should befall them at Vanity Fair. Then 
said their guide, " Hereabouts did Christian and Faithful meet with Evangelist, who 
prophesied to them of their troubles which they should meet with at Vanity Fair." 

Hon. Say you so ? I dare say it was a hard chapter, then, that he did read unto 
them! 

Great. It was ; but he gave them encouragement withal. But what do we talk of 
them? they were a couple of lion-like men: they had set their faces like flint. Do 
not you remember how undaunted they were when they stood before the judge? 

Hon. Well. Faithful bravely suffered. 

Great. So he did, and as brave things came on 't ; for Hopeful and some others, as 
the story relates it, were converted by his death. 

Hon. Well, but pray go on, for you are well acquainted with things. 



THEY ARE ENTERTAINED BY MNASON. 279 

Great. Above all that Christian met with after he had passed through Vanity Fair, 
one By-ends was the arch one. 

Hox. By-ends ! Avhat was he ? 

Great. A very arch fellow — a downi-ight hypocrite ; one that would be religious, 
which way soever the world went ; but so cunning that he would be sure never to lose 
or suffer for it. He had his mode of religion for every fresh occasion, and his wife 
was as good at it as he. And he would turn and cliange from opinion to opinion l 
yea, and plead for so doing too. But, as far as I could learn, he came to an ill end 
with his by-ends ; nor did I ever hear that any of his children were ever of any esteem 
with any that truly feared God. 

Now, by this time they were come within sight of the town of Vanity, where Vanity 
Fair is kept. So, when they saw that they were so near the town, they consulted with 
one another how they should pass through the town ; and some said one thing, and 
some another. At last Mr. Great-heart said, " I have, as you may understand, often 
been a conductor of pilgrims through this town. Now, I am acquainted with one Mr. 
Mnason,^"^ a Cyprusian by nature, an old disciple, at whose house we may lodge. If 
you think good," said he, " we will turn in there." 

" Content," said old Honest ; " Content," said Christiana ; " Content," said Mr. 
Feeble-mind ; and so they said all. Now, you must think it was eventide by that 
they got to the outside of the town ; but Mr. Great-heart knew the way to the old 
man's house. So thither they came, and he called at the door ; and the old man 
within knew his tongue so soon as ever he heard it; so he opened the door, and they 
all came in. Then said Mnason, their host, " How far have ye come to-day ? " 

So they said, " From the house of Gaius, our friend." 

" I promise you," said he, " you have come a good stitch : you may well be weary. 
Sit down." So they sat down. 

Great. Then said their guide, "Come, what cheer, sirs? I dare say you are 
welcome to my friend." 

Mnas. " I also," said Mr. Mnason, " do bid you welcome ; and whatever you want, 
do but say, and we will do what we can to get it for you." 

Hon. Our great want a while since was harbor and good company, and now I hope 
we have both. 

Mnas. For harbor, you see what it is ; but for good company, that will appear in 
the trial. 

Great. " Well," said Great-heart, " will you have the pilgrims up into their lodging ?" 

Mnas. " I will," said Mr. Mnason. So he had them up to their respective places, 



280 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

and also showed them a very fair dining-room, where they might be, and sup together, 
until time should come to go to rest. 

Now, when they were set in their places, and were a little cheery after their journey, 
Mr. Honest asked his landlord if there were any store of good people in the town. 

Mnas. We have a few ; for, indeed, they are but a few when compared with them 
on the other side. 

Hon. But how shall we do to see some of them ? for the sight of good men to them 
that are going on pilgrimage is like the appearing of the moon and stars to them that 
are sailing upon the seas. 

Mnas. Then Mr. Muason stamped with his foot, and his daughter Grace came up. 
So he said unto her, " Grace, go you, tell my friends, Mr. Contrite, Mr. Holy-man, Mr. 
Love-saint, Mr. Dare-not-lie, and ]\Ir. Penitent, that I have a friend or two at my 
house who have a mind this evening to see them." So Grace went to call them, and 
they came ; and, after salutation made, they sat down together at the table. 

Then said Mr. Mnason, their landlord, " My neighbors, I have, as you see, a com- 
pany of strangers come to my house: they are pilgrims; they come from afar, and are 
going to Mount Zion. But who," quoth he, " do you think this is ? " pointing with his 
finger to Christiana. " It is Christiana, the wife of Christian, that famous pilgrim who, 
with Faithful his brother, was so shamefully handled in our town." 

At that they stood amazed, saying, " We little thought to see Christiana when Grace 
came to call us ; wherefore this is a very comfortable surprise." They then asked her 
of her welfare, and if these young men were her husband's sons. And when she told 
them they were, they said, " The King whom you love and serve, make you as your 
father, and; bring you where he is in peace ! " 

Hon. Then Mr. Honest (when they had all sat down) asked Mr. Contrite and the 
rest, in what posture their town was at present. 

Contrite. You may be sure we are full of hurry in fair-time. 'T is hard keeping 
our hearts and spirits in good order when we are in a cumbered condition. He that 
lives in such a place as this, and has to do with such as we have, has need of an item, 
to caution him to take heed, every moment of the day. 

Hon. But how are your neighbors for quietness ? 

CoNTR. They are much more moderate now than formerly. You know how Christian 
and Faithful were used at our town ; but of late, I say, they have been far more moder- 
ate. I think the blood of Faithful lieth as a load upon them till now ; for since they 
burned him they have been ashamed to burn any more. In those days we were afraid 
to walk the street ; but now we can show our heads. Then the name of a professor 



A GREAT CHANGE AT VANITY FAIR. 281 

was odious; now^ specially in some parts of our town (for you know our town is large), 
religion is counted honorable. 

Then said Mr. Contrite to them, " Pray, how fareth it with you in your pilgrimage? 
how stands the country affected towards you ? " 

Hon. It happens to us as it happeneth to wayfaring men : sometimes our way is 
clean, sometimes foul ; sometimes up-hill, sometimes down-hill : we are seldom at a 
certainty. The wind is not always on our back, nor is every one a friend that we meet 
with in the way. We have met with some notable rubs already, and what are yet 
behind we know not ; but, for the most part, we find it true that has been talked of of 
old, "A good man must suffer trouble." 

CoNTK. You talk of rubs ; what rubs have you met withal ? 

Hon. Nay, ask Mr. Great-heart, our guide ; for he can give the best account of that. 

Great. We have been beset three or four times already. First, Christiana and her 
children were beset by two ruffians, who, they feared, would take away their lives. 
We were beset by Giant Bloody-man, Giant Maul, and Giant Slay-good. Indeed, we 
did rather beset the last, than were beset of him. And thus it was : After we had 
been some time at the house of Gaius mine host, and of the whole Church, we were 
minded ujwn a time to take our weapons with us, and go and see if we could light 
upon any of those that were enemies to pilgrims ; for we heard that there was a nota- 
ble one thereabouts. Now Gaius knew his haunt better than I, because he dwelt 
thereabout. So we looked, and looked, till at last we discerned the mouth of his cave ; 
then we were glad and plucked up our spirits. So we approached u^^ to his den ; and, 
lo ! when we came there, he had dragged, by mere force, into his net, this poor man, 
Mr. Feeble-mind, and was about to bring him to his end. But, when he saw us, sup- 
posing, as he thought, he had had another prey, he left the poor man in his house, and 
came out. So we fell to it full sore, and he lustily laid about him ; but, in conclusion, 
he was brought down to the ground, and his head cut off, and set up by the wayside, 
for terror to such as should after practice such ungodliness. That I tell you the truth, 
here is the man himself to affirm it, who was as a lamb taken out of the mouth of the 
lion. 

Feeble. Then said Mr. Feeble-mind, " I found this true, to my cost and comfort: 
to my cost, when he threatened to pick my bones every moment ; and to my comfort, 
when I saw Mr. Great-heart and his friends with their weapons approach so near for 
my deliverance." 

Holy. Then said Mr. Holy-man, " There are two things that they have need to 
possess who go on jiilgrimage — courage and an unspotted life. If they have not 

36 



282 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

courage, tliey can never hold on their way ; and if their lives be loose, they will make 
the very name of the pilgrim stink." 

Love. Then said Mr. Love-saint, " I hope this caution is not needful among you. 
But truly there are many that go upon the road, who rather declare themselves 
strangers to pilgrimage than strangers and pilgrims in the earth." 

Dare. Then said Mr. l)are-not-lie, " 'T is true. They have neither the pilgrim's 
weed nor the pilgrim's courage: they go not uprightly, but all awry with their feet; 
one shoe goeth inward, another outward, and their hosen out behind; there is here a 
rag, and there a rent, to the disparagement of their Lord." 

Pex. "The.se things," said Mr. Penitent, "they ought to be troubled for; nor are 
the pilgrims like to have that grace upon them and their pilgrim's progress as they 
desire, until the way is cleared of such spots and blemishes." 

Thus they sat talking and spending the time until supper was set upon the table, 
unto which they went, and refreshed their weary bodies ; so they went to rest. 

Now, they stayed in this fair a great while, at the house of Mnason, who, in process 
of time, gave his daughter Grace unto Samuel, Christiana's son, to wife ; and his 
daughter Martha to Joseph. 

The time, as I said, that they stayed here was long ; for it was not now as in former 
times. Wherefore the pilgrims grew acquainted with many of the good people of the 
town, and did them what service they could. Mercy, as she was wont, labored much 
for the poor ; wherefore their bellies and backs blessed her, and she was there an 
ornament to her profession. And to say the truth for Grace, Phoebe, and Martha, 
they were all of a very good nature, and did much good in their places. They were 
also all of them very fruitful ; so that Christian's name, as was said before, was like to 
live in the world. 

While they lay here, there came a monster out of the woods, and slew many of the 
people of the town. It would also carry away their children, and teach them to suck 
its whelps. Now, no man in the town durst so much as face this monster, but all fled 
when they heard the noise of his coming. 

The monster was like unto no one beast on the earth. Its body was like a dragon, 
and it had seven heads and ten horns. It made great havoc of children, and yet it 
was governed by a woman. ''^ This monster propounded conditions to men, and such 
men as loved their lives more than their souls accepted of those conditions ; so they 
came under. 

Now, this ]\Ir. Great-heart, together with those that came to visit the pilgrims at 
Mr. Mnasou's house, entered into a covenant to go and engage this beast, if perhaps 



THE HILL LUCRE, AND THE PLEASANT LAND. 283 

they might deliver the people of this town from the paws and mouth of this so devour- 
ing a serpent. 

Then did Mr. Great-heart, Mr. Contrite, Mr. Holy-man, Mr. Dare-not-lie, and Mr. 
Penitent, with their weapons, go forth to meet him. Now, the monster was at first 
very rampant, and looked upon these enemies with great disdain ; but they so belabored 
him, being sturdy men-at-arms, that they made him make a retreat. So they came 
home to Mr. Mnason's house again. 

The monster, you must know, had his certain seasons to come out in, and to make 
his attempts upon the children of the people of the town. Also, these seasons did 
these valiant worthies watch him in, and did still continually assault him ; insomuch 
that in process of time he became not only wounded, but lame. Also he has not made 
that havoc of the townsmen's children as formerly he had done ; and it is verily 
believed by some that this beast will die of his wounds. 

This, therefore, made Mr. Great-heart and his fellows of great fame in this town ; 
so that many of the people that wanted their taste of things, yet had a reverent esteem 
and respect for them. Upon this account, therefore, it was that these pilgrims got 
not much hurt here. True, there were some of the baser sort, that could see no more 
than a mole, nor understand any more than a beast ; these had no reverence for these 
men, and took no notice of their valor or adventures. 

Well, the time grew on that the pilgrims must go on their way ; Avherefore they 
prepared for their journey. They sent for their friends ; they conferred with them ; 
they had some time set apart, therein to commit each other to the jjrotection of their 
Prince. There were again that brought them of such things as they had, that were 
fit for the weak and the strong, for the women and the men, and so laded them with 
such things as were necessary.'"* Then they set forward on their way ; and, their 
friends accompanying them so far as was convenient, they again committed each other 
to the protection of their King, and parted. 

They, therefore, that were of the pilgrims' company, went on, and Mr. Great-heart 
went before them. Now, the women and children being weakly, they were forced to 
go as they could bear ; by which means, Mr. Ready-to-halt and Mr. Feeble-mind had 
more to sympathize with their condition. 

When they were gone from the townsmen, and when their friends had bid them 
farewell, they quickly came to the place where Faithful was put to death. There, 
therefore, they made a stand, and thanked Him that had enabled him to bear his cross 
so well ; and the rather, because they now found that they had a benefit by such manly 
suffering as his was. 



284 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

They went on, therefore, after this a good way farther, talking of Christian and 
Faithful, and how Hopeful joined himself to Christian after that Faithful was dead. 

Now they were come up with the Hill Lucre, where the silver mine was which 
took Demas off from his pilgrimage, and into which, as some think, By-ends fell and 
perished ; wherefore they considered that. But, when they were come to the old 
monument that stood over against the Hill Lucre, to wit, the pillar of salt, that stood 
also within view of Sodom and its stinking lake, they marvelled, as did Christian 
before, that men of that knowledge and ripeness of wit as they were, should be so 
blind as to turn aside here. Only they considered again, that nature is not affected 
with the harms that others have met with, specially if that thing upon which they look 
has an attracting virtue upon the foolish eye. 




CHAPTER VIII. 

THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS AND THE SHEPHERDS. 

SAW now that they went on till they came at the river tliat was on this side of 

the Delectable Mountains ; to the river where the fine trees grow on both 

\i^ sides, and whose leaves, if taken inwardly, are good against surfeits ; where 

the meadows are green all the year long, and where they might lie down 

:safely.^°* 

By this river-side, in the meadow, there were cotes and folds for sheep, a house built 
for the nourishing and bringing up of those lambs, the babes of those women that go on 
pilgrimage. Also there was here One that was entrusted with them, who could have 
compassion, and that could gather these lambs with His arm, and carry them in His 
bosom, and that could gently lead those that were with young.'"' 

Now, to the care of this Man Christiana admonished her four daughters to commit 
their little ones, that by these waters they might be housed, harbored, succored, and 
nourished, and that none of them might be lacking in time to come. This Man, if 
any of them go astray or be lost. He will bring them again ; He will also bind up that 
which was broken, and will strengthen them that are sick.™ Here they will never 



DOUBTING CASTLE. 285 

want meat ami drink and clothing ; here they will be kept from thieves and robbers ; 
for this Man will die before one of those committed to His trust shall be lost. Besides, 
here they shall be sure to have good nurture and admonition, and shall be taught to 
walk in right paths : and that, you know, is a favor of no small account. Also here, 
as you see, are delicate waters, pleasant meadows, dainty flowers, variety of trees, and 
such as bear wholesome fruit — fruit not like that that Matthew ate of, that fell over 
the wall out of Beelzebub's garden ; but fruit that procureth health where there is 
none, and that continueth and increaseth it where it is. So they were content to com- 
mit their little ones to Him ; and that which was .also an encouragement to them so to 
do, was, for that all this was to be at the charge of the King, and so was as an hospital 
for young children and or^ihans. 

Now they went on. And, when they were come to By-path Meadow, to the stile 
over which Christian went with his fellow Hopeful, when they were taken by Giant 
Despair and jDut into Doubting Castle, they sat down, and consulted what was best to 
be done ; to wit, now they were so strong, and had got such a man as Mr. Great-heart 
for their conductor, whether they had not best make an attempt upon the giant, de- 
molish his castle, and if there were any j^ilgrims in it, to set them at liberty, before 
they went any farther. So one said one thing, and another said the contrary. One 
questioned if it were lawful to go upon unconsecrated ground ; another said they 
might, providing their end was good ; but Mr. Great-heart said, " Though that asser- 
tion offered last cannot be universally true, yet I have a commandment to resist sin, 
to overcome evil, to fight the good fight of faith ; and, I pray, with whom should I 
fight this good fight, if not with Giant Despair? I will therefore attempt the taking 
away of his life and the demolishing of Doubting Castle." Then said he, " Who will 
go with me?" Then said old Honest, "I will." "And so will we too," said Chris- 
tiana's four sons, Matthew, Samuel, Joseph, and James ; for they were young men and 
strong.^"'' So they left the women in the road, and with them Mr. Feeble-mind and 
Mr. Ready-to-halt, with his crutches, to be their guard until they came back ; for, in 
that place, though Giant Despair dwelt so near, they keeping in the road, "a little 
child might lead them." '"' 

So Mr. Great-heart, old Honest, and the four young men went to go up to Doubting 
Castle, to look for Giant Despair. When they came at the castle gate, they knocked 
for entrance with an unusual noise. At that, the old giant comes to the gate, and 
Diffidence his wife follows. Then said he, " Who and what is he that is so hardy as 
after this manner to molest the Giant Despair? " 

Mr. Great-heart replied, "It is I, Great-heart,, one of the King of the Celestial 



286 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



\\Sv^ v\V 




Despomleucy. 



Country's conductors of pilgrims to their 
jilace ; and I demand of thee that thou open 
thy gates for my entrance ; prepare thyself 
also to fight, for I am come to take away thy 
head, and to demolish Doubting Castle." 

Now, Giant Despair, because he was a giant 
thought no man could overcome him; and 
again thought he, " Since heretofore I have 
made a conquest of angels, shall Great-heart 
make me afraid ? " So he harnessed himself, 
and went out. He had a cap of steel upon 
his head, a breast-plate of fire girded to him, 
and he came out in iron shoes, with a great 
club in his hand. Then these six men made 
up to him, and beset him behind and before ; 
also, when Diffidence, the giantess, came up 
to help him, old Mr. Honest cut her down at 
one blow. Then they fought for their lives, 
and Giant Despair was brought down to the 



ground, but was very loath to die. He strug- 
gled hard, and had, as they say, as many lives 
as a cat ; but Great-heart was his death, for he 
left him not till he had severed his head from 
his shoulders. 

Then they fell to demolishing Doubting 
Castle, and that, you know, might with ease 
be done, since Giant Despair was dead. They 
were seven days in destroying of that ; and in 
it of pilgrims they found one Mr. Despond- 
ency, almost starved to death, and one Much- 
afraid, his daughter : these two they saved 
alive. But it would have made you wonder 
to have seen the dead bodies that lay here 
and there in the castle-yard, and how full of 
dead men's bones the dungeon was. 

When Mr. Great-heart and his companions 
had performed this exploit, they took Mr. 




M'.irli-afraicl 



THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS REACHED. 287 

Despondency and Iiis daughter Much-afraid into their protection ; for they were 
honest people, though they were prisoners in Doubting Castle to that tyrant Giant 
Despair. 

They therefore, I say, took with them the head of the giant (for his body they had 
buried under a heap of stones), and down to the road and to their companions they 
came, and showed them what they had done. Now, when Feeble-mind and Ready- 
to-halt saw that it was the head of Giant Despair indeed, they were very jocund and 
merry. Now, Christiana, if need was, could play upon the viol, and her daughter Mercy 
upon the lute ; so, since they were so merry disposed, she played them a lesson, and 
Ready-to-halt would dance. So he took Despondency's daughter Much-afraid by the 
hand, and to dancing they went in the road. True, he could not dance without one 
crutch in his hand ; but I promise you he footed it well ; also the girl was to be com- 
mended, for she answered the music handsomely. 

As for Mr. Despondency, the music was not so much to him ; he was for feeding 
rather than dancing, for that he was almost starved. So Christiana gave him some 
of her bottle of spirits for present relief, and then prepared him something to eat; and 
in a little time the old gentleman came to himself, and began to be finely revived. 

Now, I saw in my dream, when all these things were finished, Mr. Great-heart took 
the head of Giant Despair, and set it upon a pole by the highway -side, right over 
against the pillar that Christian erected for a caution to pilgrims that came after to 
take heed of entering into his grounds. Then he writ under it, upon a marble stone, 
these verses following : 

" This is the heail of him whose name only 
III former tiiiios did pilgrims terrify. 
His castle's down, and Diffidence his wife 
Brave Mr. Great-heart has bereft of life. 
Despondency, his daughter Much-afraid, 
Great-heart f(.ir them also the man has plaj'ed. 
Wlio hereof doubts, if he'll but cast his ej'e 
Up hither, may his scruples satisfy. 
This liead also, when doubting cripples dance. 
Doth show from fears they have deliverance." 

When these men had thus bravely showed themselves against Doubting Castle, 
and had slain Giant Despair, they went forward, and went on till they came to the 
Delectable Mountains, where Christian and Hopeful refreshed themselves with 
the varieties of the place. They also acquainted themselves with the shepherds 
there, who welcomed them, as they had done Christian before, unto the Delectable 
Mountains. 



288 THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 

Now, the shepherds seeing so great a train follow Mr. Great-heart (for with him 
they were well acquainted), they said unto him, "Good sir, you have got a goodly 
company here ; pray, where did you find all these ? " 

Then Mr- Great-heart replied : 

''First, here is Christiana and her train, 
Her sons, and her sons' wives, who, like the wain, 
Keep by the pole, and do by compass steer 
From sin to grace ; else they had not been here. 
Next, here's old Honest come on pilgrimage. 
Ready-to-halt too, who I dare engage 
True-hearted is, and so is Fccble-mind, 
Who willing was not to be loft behind. 
Despondency, good man, is coming after, 
And so also is Much-afraid his daughter. 
May we have entertainment here, or must 
We farther go? Let's know whereon to trust." 

Then said the shepherds, " This is a comfortable company. You are welcome to 
us, for we have for the feeble, as well as for the strong. Our Prince has an eye to 
what is done to the least of these; therefore infirmity must not be a block to our 
entertainment." ^"" So they had them to the palace door, and then said unto them, 
" Come in, Mr. Feeble-mind ; come in, Mr. Ready-to-halt; come in, Mr. Despondency 
and Mrs. Much-afraid, his daughter. These, Mr. Great-heart," said the shepherds to 
the guide, " we call in by name, for that they are most subject to draw back ; but as 
for you and the rest that are strong, we leave you to your wonted liberty." 

Then said Mr. Great-heart, " This day I see that grace doth shine in your faces, 
and that you are my Lord's shepherds indeed ; for that you have not pushed these 
diseased neither with side nor shoulder, but have rather strewed their way into the 
palace with flowers, as you should." "° 

So the feeble and weak went in, and Mr. Great-heart and the rest did follow When 
they were also sat down, the shepherds said to those of the weaker sort, " What is it 
that you would have ? for," said they, " all things must be managed here for the sup- 
porting of the weak, as well as the warning of the unruly." So they made them a 
feast of things easy of digestion, and that were pleasant to the palate, and nourishing; 
the which when they had received, they went to their rest, each one respectively unto 
his proper place. 

When morning was come, because the mountains were high and the day eleai', and " 
because it was the custom of the shepherds to show the pilgrims before their departure 
some rarities; therefore, after they were ready and had refreshed themselves, the 



PREJUDICE AND ILL-WILL. 



289 



shepherds took them out into the fiekls, and 
showed them first what they had showed to 
Christian before. 

Then they had them to some new places. 
The first was to Mount Marvel, where they 
looked, and beheld a man at a distance that 
tumbled the hills about with words. Then 
they asked the shepherds what that should 
mean. So they told them that that man was 
the son of Mr. Great-grace, of whom you 
read in the first part of the records of the 
Pilgrim's Progress ; and he is set down there to 
teach the pilgrims how to believe, or to tumble 
out of their ways what difficulties they should 
meet with, by faith."^ Then said Mr. Great- 
heart, " I know him ; he is a man above many." 

Then they had them to another place, 
called Mount Innocent ; and there they saw a 




Prejudice. 




lU-vrill. 



man clothed all in white, and two men. Pre- 
judice and Ill-will, continually casting dirt 
upon him. Now, behold, the dirt, whatsoever 
they cast at him, would in a little time fall off 
again, and his garment would look as clear as 
if no dirt had been cast thereat. Then said 
the pilgrims, " What means this ? " 

The shepherds answered, "This man is 
named Godly-man, and this garment is to 
show the innocency of his life. Now, those 
that throw dirt at him are such as hate his 
well-doing ; but, as you see, the dirt will not 
stick upon his clothes : so it shall be with him 
that liveth truly innocently in the world. 
Whoever they be that would make such men 
dirty, they labor all in vain ; for God, by that 
a little time is spent, will cause that their in- 
nocence shall break forth as the light, and 
their righteousness as the noon day." 



290 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Then they took thein, and had them to Mount Charity, where they showed them a 
man that had a bundle of cloth lying before him, out of which he cut coats and gar- 
ments for the poor that stood about him ; yet his bundle or roll of cloth was never 
the less. 

Then said they, " What should this be? " 

" This is," said the shepherds, " to show you that he who has a heart to give of his 
labor to the poor, shall never want wherewithal. He that watereth shall be watered 
himself. And the cake that the widow gave to the prophet did not cause that she had 
ever the less in her barrel." 

They had them also to a place where they saw one Fool, and one Want-wit, Avash- 
ing of an Ethiopian, with intention to make him white ; but the more they washed 
him the blacker he was. Then they asked the shepherds what that should mean. So 
they told them, saying, " Thus shall it be with the vile person : all means used to get 
such an one a good name, shall, in conclusion, tend but to make him jnore abominable. 
Thus it was with the Pharisees, and so shall it be with all hypocrites." 

Then said Mercy, the wife of Matthew, to Christiana her mother, " Mother, I would, 
if it might be, see the hole in the hill, or that commonly called the By-way to Hell." 
So her mother brake her mind to the shepherds. Then they went to the door : it was 
in the side of a hill ; and they opened it, and bid Mercy hearken awhile. So she 
hearkened, and heard one saying, " Cursed be my father for holding of my feet back 
from the way of peace and life." And another said, " Oh that I had been torn in 
pieces before I had, to save my life, lost my soul ! " And another said, " If I were to 
live again, how would I deny myself rather than come to this place ! " Then there 
was as if the very earth groaned and quaked under the feet of this young woman for 
fear ; so she looked white, and came trembling away, saying, " Blessed be he and she 
that are delivered from this place." 

Now, when the shepherds had shown them all these things, then they had them 
back to the palace, and entertained them with what the house would afford. But 
Mercy, being a young and breeding woman, longed for something that she saw there, 
but was ashamed to ask. Her mother-in-law then asked her what she ailed, for she 
looked as one not well. Then said Mercy, " There is a looking-glass hangs up in the 
dining-room, off of which I cannot take my mind ; if, therefore, I have it not, I think 
I shall miscarry." Then said her mother, " I will mention thy wants to the shepherds, 
and they will not deny it thee." But she said, " I am ashamed that these men should 
know that I longed." " Nay, my daughter," said she, " it is no shame, but a virtue, to 
long for such a thing as that." So Mercy said, " Then, mother, if you please, ask the 
shepherds if they are willing to sell it." 



THE GREA T GLASS. 291 

Now, the glass was one of a tliousaiid. It would present a man, one way, with his 
own features exactly ; and, turn it but another way, and it would show one the very 
face and similitude of the Prince of pilgrims Himself. Yea, I have talked with them 
that can tell, and they have said that they have seen the very crown of thorns upon 
His head, by looking in that glass ; they have therein also seen the holes in His hands, 
in His feet, and in His side. Yea, such an excellency is there in this glass, that it 
will show Him to one where they have a mind to see Him, whether living or dead, 
whether in earth or in heaven, whether in a state of humiliation or in His exaltation, 
whether coming to suffer or coming to reign."'^ 

Christiana, therefore, went to the shepherds apart — (now, the names of the shepherds 
were Knowledge, Experience, Watchful, and Sincere), — and said unto them, " There is 
one of my daughters, a breeding woman, that I think doth long for something that 
she hath seen in this house, and she thinks that she shall miscarry if she should by 
you be denied." 

Experience. Call her, call her; she shall assuredly have what we can help her to. 
So they called her, and said to her, " Mercy, what is that thing thou wouldst have? " 
Then she blushed, and said, " The great glass that hangs up in the dining-room." So 
Sincere ran and fetched it ; and with a joyful consent it was given her. Then she 
bowed her head, and gave thanks, and said, " By this I know that I have obtained 
favor in your eyes." 

They also gave to the other young women such things as they desired, and to their 
husbands great commendations for that they joined with Great-heart to the slaying of 
Giant Despair and the demolishing of Doubting Castle. 

About Christiana's neck the shepherds put a bracelet, and so they did about the 
necks of her four daughters ; also they put earrings in their ears, and jewels on their 
foreheads. 

When they were minded to go hence, they let them go in peace, but gave not to 
them those certain cautions which before were given to Christian and his companion. 
The reason was, for that these had Great-heart to be their guide, who was one that 
was well acquainted with things, and so could give them their cautions more season- 
ably ; to wit, even then when the danger was nigh the approaching. What cautions 
Christian and his companion had received of the shepherds, they had also lost by that 
the time was come that they had need to put them in practice. Wherefore, here was 
the advantage that this company had over the other. 

From hence they went on singing, and they said : 



292 THE PILGRIM'S PROURE^S. 

"BeliolJ, liow fitly are the stages set, 

For their relief that pilgrims are becumc, 
And how tliey us receive without one lot, 
That make the other life our iinrk and home ! 

■ What novelties they have, to us they give, 
That we, though i)ilgrims, joyful lives may live; 
They do upon us, too, such things bestow, 
That show we pilgrims are, where'er we go.'' 

When they were gone from the shepherds, they quickly came to the place where 
Christian met with one Turn-away, that dwelt in the town of A2)ostasy. Wherefore 
of him Mr. Great-heart, their guide, did now put them in mind, saying, " This is the 
place where Christian met with one Turn-away, who carried with him the character 
of his rebellion at his back. And this I have to say concerning this man : he would 
hearken to no counsel, but, once falling, persuasion could not stop him. When he 
came to the place where the Cross and the sejiulchre were, he did meet with one that 
bid him look there ; but he gnashed with his teeth, and stamped, and said he was 
resolved to go back to his own town. Before he came to the gate, he met with 
Evangelist, who offered to lay hands on him, to turn him into the way again. But 
this Turn-away resisted him ; and having done much despite unto him, he got away 
over the wall, and so escaped his hand.""^ 

Then they went on ; and just at the place where Little-Faith formerly was robbed, 
there stood a man with his sword drawn, and his face all bloody. Then said Mr. 
Great-heart, " Who art thou ? " The man made answer, saying, " I am one whose 
name is Valiant-for-truth. I am a j)ilgrim, and am going to the Celestial City. Now, 
as I was in my way, there were three men did beset me, and propounded unto me 
these three things : 1. Whether I would become one of them ?"' 2. Or go back from 
whence I came? 3. Or die upon the place? To the first I answered, I had been a 
true man a long season, and therefore it could not be expected that I should now cast 
in my lot ^vith thieves. Then they demanded what I should say to the second. So I 
told them that the place from whence I came, had I not found incommodity there, 
I had not forsaken at all ; but, finding it altogether unsuitable to me, and very 
unprofitable for me, I forsook it for this way. Then they asked me what I said to the 
third. And I told them my life cost more dear far than that I should lightly give it 
away. Besides you have nothing to do thus to put things to my choice ; wherefore at 
your peril be it if you meddle. Then these three, to wit, Wild-head, Inconsiderate, 
and Pragmatic, drew upon me, and I also drew upon them. So we fell to it, one 
against three, for the space of above three hours. They have left upon me, as you 




Turn-away resisting Evangelist. 

' Evangelist ofl'erfd to lay bauds on liim, to turn him into the way asain." 



f2n3) 



294 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



see, some of the marks of their valor, and have also carried away with them some of 
mine. They are hut just now gone : I suppose they might, as the saying is, hear your 
horse dash, and so they betook them to flight." 

Great. But here was great odds, three against one. 

Valiant. 'T is true; but little or more are nothing to him that has the truth on his 
side. " Though an host should encamp against me," said one,"'"' " my heart shall not 
fear: though war should rise against me, in this will I be confident." "Besides," said 
he, " I have read in some records that one man has fought an army ; and how many 
did Samson slay with the jaw-bone of an ass ? " "" 

Great. Then said the guide, " Why did 
you not cry out, that some might have come 
in for your succor ? '.' 

Valiaxt. So I did, to my King, who, I 
knew, could hear me, and afford invisible 
help ; and that was sufficient for me. 

Great. Then said Great-heart to Mr. 
Valiant-for-truth, " Thou hast worthily be- 
haved thyself. Let me see thy sworil." So 
he showed it him. When he had taken it in 
his hand, and looked thereon a while, he said, 
" Ha ! it is a right Jerusalem blade." "' 

Valiant. It is so. Let a man have one of 
these blades, with a hand to wield it and skill 
to use it, and he may venture upon an angel 
with it. He need not fear its holding, if he 
can but tell how to lay on. Its edges will 
never blunt. It will cut flesh and bones, and 
soul and spirit, and all."' 
Great. But you fought a great while. I Avonder you were not weary. 
Valiant. I fought till my sword did cleave to my hand ; and when they were 
joined together, as if a sword grew out of my arm, and when the blood ran through 
my fingers, then I fought with most courage. 

Great. Thou hast done well ; thou hast resisted unto blood, striving against sin. 
Thou shalt abide by us, come in and go out with us, for we are thy companions. 

Then they took him, washed his wounds, and gave him of what they had, to refresh 
him ; and so they went on together. 




Wild-heael. 



HO W VA LI A NT- FOR- TR UTH BORE HIMSELF. 295 

Now, as thejr went on, because Mr. Great-heart was delighted in him (for he loved 
one greatly that he found to be a man of his hands), and because there were in comj^any 
them that were feeble and weak, therefore he questioned with him about many things ; 
as, first, what countryman he was. 

Valiant. I am of Dark-land ; for there I was born, and there my father and mother 
are still. 

Great. " Dark-land ! " said the guide ; " doth not that lie upon the same coast with 
the City of Destruction '? " 

Valiant. Yes, it doth. Now, that which caused me to come on pilgrimage was 
this. We had one Mr. Tell-true come into our ^^arts, and he told it about what 
Christian had done, that went from the City of Destruction ; namely, how he had for- 
saken his wife and children, and had betaken himself to a pilgrim's life. It was also 
confidently reported, how he had killed a serpent that did come out to resist him in 
his journey ; and how he got through to whither he intended. It was also told what 
welcome he had at all his Lord's lodgings, specially when he came to the gates of the 
Celestial City ; " For there," said the man, " he was received with sound of trumpet by 
a company of Shining Ones." He told also how all the bells in the City did ring for 
joy at his reception, and what golden garments he was clothed with ; with many other 
things that now I shall forbear to relate. In a word, that man so told the story of 
Christian and his travels, that my heart fell into a burning haste to be gone after him; 
nor could father or mother stay me. So I got from them, and am come thus far on 
my way. 

Great. You came in at the gate, did you not ? 

Valiant. Yes, yes ; for the same man also told us, that all would be nothing if we 
did not begin to enter this way at the gate. 

Great. " Look you," said the guide to Christiana, " the pilgrimage of your husband, 
with what he has gotten thereby, is spread abroad far and near." 

Valiant. Why, is this Christian's wife ? 

Great. Yes, that it is, and these also are his four sons. 

Valiant. What ! and going on pilgrimage too ? 

Great. Yes, verily, they are following after. 

Valiant. It glads me at heart. Good man, how joyful will he be when he shall see 
them that would not go with him, yet to enter after him in at the gates into the 
City! 

Great. Without doubt it will be a comfort to him; for, next to the joy of seeing 
himself there, it will be a joy to meet there his wife and children. 



296 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Valiant, But, now you are upon that, pray let me hear your opinion about it. Some 
make a question whether we shall know one another when we are there. 

Great. Do they think they shall know themselves, then ? or that they shall rejoice 
to see themselves in that bliss ? And if they think they shall know and do this, why not 
know others, and rejoice in their welfare also ? Again, since relations are our second 
self, though that state will be dissolved there, yet why may it not be rationally con- 
cluded that we shall be more glad to see them there than to see they are wanting ? 

Valiaxt. Well, I jierceive whereabouts you are as to this. Have you any more 
things to ask me about my beginning to come on pilgrimage ? 

Great. Yes. Were your father and mother willing that you should become a pilgrim ? 

Valiant. Oh, no ; they used all means imaginable to persuade me to stay at home. 

Great. Why, what could they say against it ? 

Valiant. They said it was an idle life ; and, if I myself were not inclined to sloth 
and laziness, I would never countenance a pilgrim's condition. 

Great. And what did they say else ? 

Valiant. Why, they told me that it was a dangerous way : " Yea, the most danger- 
ous way in the world," said they, " is that which the pilgrims go." 

Great. Did they show you wherein this way is so dangerous ? 

Valiant. Yes ; and that in many particulars. 

Great. Name some of them. 

Valiant. They told me of the Slough of Despond, where Christian was well-nigh 
smothered. They told me that there were archers standing ready in Beelzebub's 
castle to shoot them who should knock at the wicket-gate for entrance. They told 
me also of the wood and dark mountains ; of the Hill Difficulty ; of the lions ; and 
also of the three giants, Bloody-man, Maul, and Slay-good. They said moreover that 
there was a foul fiend haunted the Valley of Humiliation, and that Christian was by 
him almost bereft of life. " Besides," said they, " you must go over the Valley of the 
Shadow of Death, where the hobgoblins are, where the light is darkness, where the 
way is full of snares, pits, traps, and gins." They told me also of Giant Despair, of 
Doubting Castle, and of the ruin that the pilgrims met with there. Further, they said 
I must go over the Enchanted Ground, which was dangerous ; and that, after all this, 
I should find a river, over which I should find no bridge, and that that river did lie 
betwixt me and the Celestial Country. 

Great. And was this all ? 

Valiant. No. They also told me that this way was full of deceivers, and of persons 
that laid wait there to turn good men out of tlie ]>nth. 




Valiaxt-for-Truth. 

33 



298 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Gkeat. But how did they make that out? 

Valiant. They told me that Mr. Worldly Wiseman did there lie in wait to deceive. 
They also said that there were Formality and Hypocrisy continually on the road 
They said also that By-ends, Talkative, or Demas would go near to gather me up ; 
that the Flatterer would catch me in his net ; or that, with green-headed Ignorance, I 
woidd presume to go on to the gate, from whence he was sent hack to the hole that 
was in the side of the hill, and made to go the by-way to hell. 

Great. I promise you, this was enough to discourage you ; but did they make an 
end here? 

Valiant. No stay. They told me also of many that had tried that way of old, and 
that had gone a great way therein, to see if they could find something of the glory 
there that so many had so much talked of from time to time ; and how they came 
back again, and befooled themselves for setting a foot out of doors in that path, to the 
satisfaction of all the country. And they named several that did so, as Obstinate and 
Pliable, Mistrust and Timorous, Turn-away and old Atheist ; with several more, who, 
they said, had some of them gone far to see what they could find, but not one of them 
found so much advantage by going as amounted to the weight of a feather. 

Great. Said they anything more to discourage you? 

Valiant. Yes ; they told me of one Mr. Fearing, who was a pilgrim, and how he 
found this way so solitary, that he never had a comfortable hour therein ; also that 
Mr. Despondency had like to have been starved therein ; yea, and also (which I hail 
almost forgot) that Christian himself, about whom there had been such a noise, after 
all his ventures for a celestial crown, was certainly drowned in the Black River, and 
never went a foot farther, however it was smothered up. 

Great. And did none of these things discourage you ? 

Valiant. No ; they seemed but as so many nothings to me. 

Great. How came that about ? 

Valiant. Why, I still believed what Mr. Tell-truth had said ; and that carried me 
beyond them all. 

Great. Then this was your victory, even your faith. 

Valiant. It was so. I believed, and therefore came out, got into the way, fought 
all that set themselves against me, and, by believing, am come to this place. 

" Who would true valor see, 
Let him come hither ; 
One here will constant be, 
Come wind, come weather ; 



THE ENCHANTED GROUND. 299 

There's no discouragement 
Shall make him once relent 
His first avowed intent 

To be a pilgrim. 

• 

"Whoso beset him round 
With dismal stories, 
Do but themselves confound — 

His strength the more is. 
No lion can him fright ; 
He'll with a giant fight, 
But he will have a right 

To be a pilgrim. 

" Hobgoblin nor foul fiend 
Can daunt his spirit ; 
He knows he at the end 

Shall life inherit. 
Then, fancies fly aw.ay. 
He'll fear not what men say ; 
He'll labor night and day 

To be a pilgrim." 



CHAPTEE IX. 



THE ENCHANTED GROUND. 




I Y this time tliey were got to the Enchanted Ground, where the air naturally- 
tended to make one drowsy. And that place was all grown over with briers 
and thorns, excepting here and there, where was an enchanted arbor, upon 
which if a man sits, or in which if a man sleeps, it is a question, say some, 
whether ever he shall rise or wake again in this world. Over this forest, therefore, they 
went, both one and another ; and Mr. Great-heart went before, for that he was the 
o-uide, and Mr. Valiant-for-truth came behind, being rear-guard, for fear lest perad- 
venture some fiend, or dragon, or giant, or thief, should fall upon their rear, and so do 
mischief They went on here, each man with his sword drawn in his hand, for they 



300 THE PILGRBVS PROGRESS. 

knew it was a dangerous place. Also they cheered up one another as well as they 
could. Feeble-mind, Mr. Great-heart commnnded, should come up after hira ; and 
IMr. Despondency was under the eye of Mr. Valiant. 

Now, they had not gone far, but a great mist and darkness fell upon them all, so 
that they could scarce, for a great while, see the one the other ; wherefore they were 
forced, for some time, to feel for one another by Avords ; for they walked not by sight. 
But any one must think that here was but sorry going for the best of them all ; but 
how much worse for the women and children, who both of feet and heart were but 
tender! Yet so it was, that through the encouraging words of him that led in the 
front, they made a pretty good shift to wag along. 

The way also was here very wearisome through dirt and slabbiness. Nor was there 
on all this ground so much as one inn or victualling-house, therein to refresh the feebler 
sort. Here, therefore, was grunting, and puffing, and sighing. While one tumbleth 
over a brush, another sticks fast in the dirt ; and the children, some of them, lost their 
shoes in the mii-e. While one cries out, " I am down ! " and another, " Ho ! where are 
you ? " and a third, " The bushes have got such fast hold on me, I think I cannot get 
away from them." 

Then they came at an arbor, warm, and promising much refreshing to the pilgrirns ; 
for it was finely wrought above head, beautified with greens, furnished with benches 
and settles. It also had in it a soft couch, whereon the weary might lean. This, you 
must think, all things considered, was tempting ; for the pilgrims already began to be 
foiled with the badness of the way ; but there was not one of them that made so much 
as a motion to stop there. Yea, for aught I could perceive, they continually gave so 
good heed to the advice of their guide, and he did so faithfully tell them of dangers, 
and of the nature of dangers when they were at them, that usually, when they were 
nearest to them, they did most pluck up their spirits, and hearten one another to deny 
the flesh. This arbor was called " The Slothful's Friend," on purpose to allure, if it 
might be, some of the pilgrims there to take up their rest when weary. 

I saw then in my dream, that they went on in this their solitary ground, till they 
came to a place at which a man is apt to lose his way. Now, though when it was 
light their guide could well enough tell how to miss those ways that led wrong, yet, in 
the dark, he was put to a stand. But he had in his jacket a map of all ways leading 
to or from the Celestial City ; wherefore he struck a light (for he also never goes 
without his tinder-box), and takes a view of his book or map, which bids him be careful 
in that place to turn to the right-hand way. And had he not here been careful to look 
in his map, they had, in all probability, been smothered in the mud; for, just a little 



HEEDLESS AND TOO-BOLD ASLEEP BY THE WAY. 301 

before them, and that at the end of the cleanest way too, was a pit, none knows how 
deep, full of nothing but mud, there made on purpose to destroy the pilgrims in. 

Then thought I with myself, " Who that goeth on pilgrimage but would have one 
of those maps about him, that he may look, when he is at a stand, which is the way he 
must take ? " 

They went on then in this Enchanted Ground till they came to where was another 
arbor, and it was built by the highway-side. And in that arbor there lay two men, 
whose names were Heedless and. Too-bold. These two went thus far on pilgrimage; 
but here, being wearied with their journey, they sat down to rest themselves, and so 
fell fast asleep. When the pilgrims saw them, they stood still, and shook their heads ; 
for they knew that the sleepers were in a pitiful case. Then they consulted what to 
do, — whether to go on and leave them in their sleep, or to step to them, and try to 
awake them. So they concluded to go to them and wake them ; that is, if they could ; 
but with this caution, namely, to take heed that themselves did not sit down nor 
embrace the offered benefit of that arbor. 

So they went in and sjiake to the men, and called each one by his name (for the 
guide, it seems, did know them) ; but there was no voice or answer. Then the guide 
did shake them, and do what he could to disturb them. Then said one of them, " I 
will pay you when I take my money." At which the guide shook his head. " I will 
fight so long as I can hold my sword in my hand," said the other. At that, one of the 
children laughed. 

Then said Christiana, " What is the meaning of this ? " The guide said, " They 
talk in their sleep. If you strike them, beat them, or whatever else you do to them, 
they will answer you after this fashion ; or, as one of them said in old time, when the 
waves of the sea did beat upon him, and he slept as one upon the mast of a ship, 
' When shall I awake? I will seek it yet again."" You know, when men talk in 
their sleep, they say anything, but their words are not governed either by faith or 
reason. There is an incoherency in their words now, as there was before betwixt their 
going on pilgrimage and sitting down here. This, then, is the mischief of it: when 
heedless ones go on pilgrimage, 't is twenty to one but they are served thus. For this 
Enchanted Ground is one of the last refuges that the enemy to pilgrims has ; where- 
fore, it is, as you see, placed almost at the end of the way, and so it standeth against us 
with the more advantage. For when, thinks the enemy, will these fools be so desirous 
to sit down as when they are weary ? and when so like to be weary as when almost at 
their journey's end ? Therefore it is, I say, that the Enchanted Ground is placed so 
near to the Land of Beulah, and so near the end of their race. Wherefore, let pil- 



302 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

grims look to themselves, lest it happen to them as it has clone to these, that, as you 
see, are fallen asleep, and none can wake them." 

Then the pilgrims desired, with trembling, to go forward; only they prayed tlieir 
guide to strike a light, that they might go the rest of their way by the help of the 
light of a lantern. So he struck a light, and they went by the helj) of that through 
the rest of this way, though the darkness was very great.^"" But the children began 
to be sorely weary ; and they cried out to Him that loveth pilgrims to make their way 
more comfortable. 80, by that they had gone a little farther, a wind arose that drove 
away the fog ; so the air became more clear. Yet they were not off, by much, of the 
Enchanted Ground ; only now they could see one another better, and the way wherein 
they should walk. 

Now, when they were almost at the end of this ground, they perceived that a little 
before them was a solemn noise, as of one that was much concerned. So they went 
on, and looked before them ; and behold, they saw, as they thought, a man upon his 
knees, Avith hands and eyes lift up, and speaking, as they thought, earnestly to one 
that was above. They drew nigh, but could not tell what he said ; so they went softly 
till he had done. When he had done, he got up, and began to run towards the 
Celestial City. 

Then Mr. Great-heart called after him, saying, " So-ho, friend ! let us have your 
company, if you go, as I suppose you do, to the Celestial City." 

So the man stopped, and they came up to him. But, as soon as Mr. Honest saw 
him, he said, " I know this man." 

Then said Mr. Valiant-for-truth, " Prithee, who is it? " 

" It is one," said he, ',' that comes from whereabout I dwelt. His name is Stand-fast ; 
he is certainly a right good pilgrim." 

So they came up one to another. And presently Stand-fast said to old Honest, 
" Ho, father Honest, are you there ? " 

" Ay," said he, " that I am, as sure as you are thei-e." 

" Eight glad am I," said Mr. Stand-fast, " that I have found you on this road." 

" And as glad am I," said the other, " that I espied you upon your knees." 

Then Mr. Stand-fast blushed, and said, " But why? did you see me? " 

" Yes, that I did," quoth the other, " and with my heart was glad at the sight." 

" Why, what did you think ? " said Stand-fast. 

" Think ! " said old Honest ; " what should I think ? I thought we had an honest 
man upon the road, and therefore should have his company by-and-bye." 



STAND-FAST REPULSES MADAM BUBBLE. 303 

" If you thought not amiss," said Stand-fast, " how hapjiy am I ! But, if I be not 
as I shoukl, I alone must bear it." 

" That is true," said the other ; " but your fear doth furtlier confirm me that things 
are right betwixt the Prince of pilgrims and your soul ; for He saith, ' Blessed is the 
man that feareth always.' " ^'^ 

Valiant. Well, but, brother, I pray thee, tell us what was it that was the cause of 
thy being upon thy knees even now : was it for that some special mercy laid obliga- 
tions upon thee, or how ? 

Stand. Why, we are, as you see, upon the Enchanted Ground ; and as I was com- 
ing along, I was musing with myself of what a diingerous road the road in this place 
was, and how many that had come even thus far on pilgrimage, had here been stopped 
and been destroyed. I thought also of the manner of the death with which this place 
destroyeth men. Those that die here die of no violent distemper : the death which 
such die is not grievous to them. For he that goeth away in such a sleep, begins that 
journey with desire and pleasure. Yea, such acquiesce in the will of that disease. 

Hon. Then Mr. Honest, interrupting of him, said, " Did you see the two men asleep 
in the arbor ? " 

Stand. Ay, ay, I saw Heedless and Too-bold there ; and, for aught I know, there 
they will lie till they rot.^'^^ But let nie go on in my tale. As I was thus musing, as 
I said, there was one in very pleasant attire, but old, who presented herself to me, and 
offered me three things ; to wit, her body, her purse, and her bed. Now, the truth is, 
I was both aweary and sleepy ; I am also as poor as an owlet, and that, perhaps, the 
witch knew. Well, I repulsed her once or twice ; but she jnit by my rej^ulses, and 
smiled. Then I began to be angry ; but she mattered that nothing at all. Then she 
made offers again, and said, if I would be ruled by her, she would make me great and 
happy. " For," said she, " I am the mistress of the world, and men are made happy 
by me." Then I asked her name, and she told me it was Madam Bubble. This set 
me further from her ; but she still followed me with enticements. Then I betook me, 
as you saw, to my knees ; and, with hands lift up, and cries, I prayed to Him that had 
said He would heljJ. So, just as you came up, the gentlewoman went her way. Then 
I continued to give thanks for this my great deliverance ; for I verily believe she 
intended no good, but rather sought to make stop of me in my journey, 

Hon. Without doubt her designs were bad. But stay : now you talk of her, me- 
thinks I either have seen her, or have read some story of her. 

Stand. Perhaps you have done both. 



304 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Hon. Madam Bubble ? Is she not a tall, comely dame, somewhat of a swarthy 
complexion ? 

Stand. Right, you hit it: she is just such a one. 

Hon. Does she not speak very smoothly, and give you a smile at the end of a 
sentence ? 

Stand. You fall right upon it again, for these are her very actions. 

Hon. Doth she not wear a great purse by her side, and is not her hand often in it, 
fingering her money, as if that was her heart's delight? 

Stand. 'T is just so. Had she stood by all this while, you could not more amply 
have set her forth before me, nor have better described her features. 

Hon. Then he that drew her picture was a good limner, atid he that wrote of her 
said true. 

Great. This woman is a witch, and it is by virtue of her sorceries that this ground 
is enchanted. Whoever doth lay his head down in her lap, had as good lay it down 
upon that block over which the axe doth hang ; and whoever lay their eyes upon her 
beauty, are accounted the enemies of God. This is she that maintaineth in their 
splendor all those that are the enemies of j^ilgrims.'^^ Yea, this is she that hath 
bought off many a man from a pilgrim's life. She is a great gossiper : she is always, 
both she and her daughters, at one pilgrim's heels or other ; now commending, and 
then preferring the excellences of this life. She is a bold and impudent slut ; she 
will talk with any man. She always laugheth poor pilgrims to scorn, but highly 
commends the rich. If there be one cunning to get money in a place, she will speak 
well of him from house to house. She loveth banqueting and feasting mainly well ; 
she is always at one full table or another. She has given it out in some places that 
she is a goddess, and therefore some do worship her. She has her times and open 
j^laces of cheating ; and she will say and avow it, that none can show a good compar- 
able to hers. She promiseth to dwell with children's children, if they will but love 
her and make much of her. She will cast out of her j^urse gold like dust, in some 
places and to some persons. She loves to be sought after, spoken well of, and to lie 
in the bosoms of men. She is never weary of commending her commodities, and she 
loves them most that think best of her. She will promise, to some, crowns and king- 
doms, if they will but take her advice ; yet many hath she brought to the halter, and 
ten thousand times more to hell. 

Stand. " Oh," said Mr. Stand-fast, " what a mercy it is that I did resist her ! for 
whither might she have drawn me ? " 

Great. Whither ! nay, none but God knows whither ; but in general, to be sure, 




Madam Bubble axd Mr. Stand-fast. 

" I am mistress of the world, and men are made happy by me." 
39 



(305) 



306 THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 

she would have drawn tbee into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in 
destruction and perdition.'-* 'T was she that set Absalom against his father, and Jero- 
boam against his master. 'T was she that persuaded Judas to sell his Lord, and that 
prevailed with Demas to forsake the godly pilgrim's life. None can tell of the mis- 
chief that she doth. She makes variance betwixt rulers and subjects, betwixt parents 
and children, betwixt neighbor and neighbor, betwixt a man and his wife, betwixt a 
man and himself, betwixt the flesh and the heart. Wherefore, good Master Stand- 
fast, be as your name is, and when you have done all, stand. 

At this discourse there was among the pilgrims a mixture of joy and trembling; 
but at length they brake out, and sang : 

" What danger is the pilgrim in ! 
ITow many are his foes ! 
How many ways there are to sin 
No living mortal knows. 

"Some of the ditch shy are, yet can 
Lie tumbling in the mire ; 
Some, though they shun the frying-pan, 
Do leap into the fire." 



CHAPTEK X. 



THE PILGRIMS AT HOME. 




jFTEE, this, I beheld until they were come unto the Land of Beulah, where the 
sun'shineth night and day. Here, because they were weary, they betook 
themselves awhile to rest. And because this country was common for pilgrims, 
and because the orchards and vineyards that were here belong to the King of 
the Celestial Country, therefore they were licensed to make bold with any of His 
things. But a little while soon refreshed them here ; for the bells did so ring, and the 
trumpets continually sound so melodiously, that they could not sleep ; and yet they 
received as much refreshing as if they had slept their sleep never so soundly. Here 
also the noise of them that walked in the streets was, " More pilgrims are come to 



CHRISTIANA PREPARES TO CROSS THE RIVER OF DEATH. 307 

town ! " And another would answer, saying, " And so many went over the water, and 
were let in at the golden gates, to-day ! " They would cry again, " There is now a 
legion of Shining Ones just come to town, by which we know that there are more 
])ilgrims upon the road ; for here they come to wait for them, and comfort them after 
all their sorrow ! " Then the pilgrims got up, and walked to and fro. But how were 
their ears now filled with heavenly voices, and their eyes delighted with celestial 
visions ! In this land they heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing, smelt nothing, 
tasted nothing, that was offensive to their stomach or mind ; only when they tasted of 
the water of the river over which they were to go, they thought that it tasted a little 
bitterish to the palate, but it proved sweeter when it was down. 

In this place there was a record kept of the names of them that had been pilgrims 
of old, and a history of all the famous acts that they had done. It was here also much 
discoursed, how the river to some had had its flowings, and what ebbings it had had 
while others have gone over. It has been in a manner dry for some, while it has over- 
flowed its banks for others. 

In this place, the children of the town would go into the King's gardens, and gather 
nosegays for the pilgrims, and bring them to them with much affection. Here also 
grew camphire, with spikenard, and saffron, calamus, and cinnamon, with all the trees 
of frankincense, myrrh, and aloes, with all chief spices. With these the pilgrims' 
chambers were perfumed while they stayed here ; and with these were their bodies 
anointed, to prepare them to go over the river, when the time appointed was come. 

Now, while they lay here, and waited for the good hour, there was a noise in the 
town that there, was a post come from the Celestial City with matter of great import- 
ance to one Christiana, the wife of Christian the pilgrim. So inquiry was made for 
her, and the house was found out where she was. So the post presented her with a 
letter ; the contents whereof were, " Hail, good woman ! I bring thee tidings that the 
Master calleth for thee, and expecteth that thou shouldest stand in His j^resence, in 
clothes of immortality, within these ten days." 

AVhen he had read this letter to her, he gave her therewith a sure token that he was 
a true messenger, and was come to bid her make haste to be gone. The token was 
an arrow, with a point sharpened with love, let easily into her heart, which by degrees 
wrought so effectually with her, that at the time appointed she must be gone. 

When Christiana saw that her time was come, and that she was the first of this 
company that was to go over, she called for Mr. Great-heart, her guide, and told him 
how matters were. So he told her he was heartily glad of the news, and could have 
been glad had the post come for him. Then she bid that he should give advice how 



308 THE PILGRDPS PROGRESS. 

all things should be prepared for her journey. So he told her, saying, " Thus and 
thus it must be ; and we that survive will accompany you to the river-side." 

Then she called for her children, and gave them her blessing, and told them that 
she yet read with comfort the mark that was set in their foreheads, and was glad to 
see them with her there, and that they had kept their garments so white. Lastly, she 
bequeathed to the poor that little she had, and commanded her sons and her daughters 
to be ready against the messenger should come for them. 

When she had spoken these words to her guide and to her children, she called for 
Mr. Valiaut-for-truth, and said unto him, " Sir, you have in all places shown yourself 
true-hearted. Be faithful unto death, and my King will give you a crown of life.'"* 
I would also entreat you to have an eye to my children ; and if at any time you see 
them faint, speak comfortably to them. For my daughters, my sons' wives, they have 
been faithful ; and a fulfilling of the promise upon them will be their end." But she 
gave Mr. Stand-fast a ring. 

Then she called for old Mr. Honest, and said of him, " Behold an Israelite indeed, 
in whom is no guile." '■" 

Then said he, " I wish you a fair day when you set out for ]\Iount Zion, and shall 
be glad to see that you go over the river dryshod." 

But she answered, " Come wet, come dry, I long to be gone ; for, however the 
weather is in my journey, I shall have time enough when I come there to sit down 
and rest me and dry me." 

Then came in that good man, Mr. E.eady-to-lialt, to see her. So she said to him, 
"Thy travel hitherto has been with difficulty ; but that will make thy rest the sweeter. 
But watch and be ready ; for, at an hour when you tliink not, the messenger may 
come." 

After him came in Mr. Despondency and his daugher Much-afraid ; to whom she 
said, " You ought with thankfulness for ever to remember your deliverance from the 
hands of Giant Despair and out of Doubting Castle. The effect of that mercy is that 
you are brought Avith safety hither. Be ye watchful, and cast away fear ; be sober, and 
hope to the end." 

Then she said to Mr. Feeble-mind, " Thou wast delivered from the mouth of Giant 
Slay-good, that thou mightest live in the light of the living for ever, and see thy King 
with comfort. Only I advise thee to repent thee of thy ajJtness to fear and doubt of 
His goodness, before He sends for thee ; lest thou shouldest, when He comes, be forced 
to stand before Him for that fault with blushing." 

Now, the day drew on that Christiana must be gone. So the road was full of people 



310 THE I'lLGRDPS PROGRESS. 

to see her take lier journey. But, behold, all the banks beyond the river were full of 
horses and chariots, which were come down from above to accompany her to the City 
gate. So she came forth and entered the river, with a beckon of farewell to those that 
followed her to the river-side. The last words that she was heard to say were, " I come. 
Lord, to be with Thee, and bless Thee ! " 

So her chikh'en and friends returned to their place, for that those that waited for 
Christiana had carried her out of their sight. So she went and called, and entered in 
at the gate with all the ceremonies of joy that her husband Christian had done before 
her. At her departure her children wept. But Mr. Great-heart and Mr. Valiant 
played upon the well-tuned cymbal and harp for joy. So all departed to their respec- 
tive places. 

In process of time, there came a post to the town again, and his business was with 
Mr. Ready-to-halt. So he inquired him out, and said to him, " I am come to thee 
from Him whom thou hast loved and followed, though upon crutches ; and my message 
is to tell thee, that He expects thee at His table to sup with Him in His kingdom, the 
next day after Easter ; wherefore prepare thyself for this journey." Then he also gave 
him a token that he was a true messenger, saying, " I have broken thy golden bowl, 
and loosed thy silver cord." '"^ 

After this Mr. Ready-to-halt called for his fellow-pilgrims, and told them, saying, 
" I am sent for, and God shall surely visit you also." So he desired Mr. Valiant to 
make his will. And because he had nothing to bequeath to them that should survive 
him but his crutches and his good wishes, therefore thus he said : " These crutches I 
bequeath to my son that shall tread in my steps, with a hundred Avarm wishes that 
he may prove better than I have done." Then he thanked Mr. Great-heart for his 
conduct and kindness, and so addressed himself to his journey. When he came to the 
brink of the river, he said, " Now I shall have no more need of these crutches, since 
yonder are chariots and horses for me to ride on." The last words he was heard to 
say were, " Welcome life ! " So he went his way. 

After this, Mr. Feeble-mind had tidings brought him, that the post sounded his 
horn at his chamber-door. Then he came in, and told him, saying, " I am come to tell 
thee that thy Master has need of thee, and that in a very little time thou must behold 
His face in brightness. And take this as a token of the truth of my message : ' Those 
that look out at the windows shall be darkened.' " ^'"' Then Mr. Feeble-mind called 
for his friends, and told them what errand had been brought unto him, and what token 
he had received of the truth of the message. Then he said, " Since I have nothing to 
bequeath to any, to what purpose should I make a will ? As for my feeble mind, that 



THE FINAL SUMMONS. 311 

I will leave behind me, for that I shall have no need of in the place whither I go, nor 
is it worth bestowing upon the poorest i:)ilgrim : wherefore, when I am gone, I desire 
that you, Mr. Valiant, would bury it in a dunghill." This done, and the day being 
come on which he was to depart, he entered the river as the rest. His last words were, 
" Hold out, faith and patience ! " So he went over to the other side. 

When days had many of them passed away, Mr. Despondency was sent for ; for 
a post was come, and brought this message to him : " Trembling man, these are to 
summon thee to be ready with thy King by the next Lord's day, to shout for joy for 
thy deliverance from all thy doubtings. And," said the messenger, " that my message 
is true, take this for a proof" So he gave him the grasshoi^per to be a burden unto 
him.^-^ 

Now, Mr. Despondency's daughter, whose name was Much-afraid, said, when she 
heard what was done, that she would go with her father. Then Mr. Despondency 
said to his friends, " Myself and my daughter, you know what we have been, and how 
troublesomely we have behaved ourselves in every company. My will and my 
daughter's is, that our desponds and slavish fears be by no man received, from the day 
of our departure for ever ; for I know that after my death they will offer themselves 
to others. For, to be plain with you, they are ghosts the which we entertained when 
we first began to be pilgrims, and could never shake them ofi" after ; and they will walk 
about and seek entertainment of the jiilgrims ; but, for our sakes, shut ye the doors 
upon them." When the time was come for them to depart, they went to the brink of 
the river. The last words of Mr. Despondency were, " Farewell night ! welcome, 
day ! " His daughter went through the river singing, but none could understand what 
she said. 

Then it came to pass a while after, that there was a post in the town that inquired 
for Mr. Honest. So he came to his house where he was, anddelivered to his hand 
these lines : " Thou art commanded to be ready against this day seven-night, to present 
thyself before thy Lord at His Father's house. And for a token that my message is 
true, 'AH thy daughters of music shall be brought low.' " "" Then Mr. Honest called 
for his friends, and said unto them, " I die, but shall make no will. As for my honesty, 
it shall go with me : let them that come after me be told this." When the day that 
he was to be gone was come, he addressed himself to go over the river. Now, the 
river at that time overflowed its banks in some jilaces ; but Mr. Honest in his lifetime 
had spoken to one Good-conscience to meet him there ; the which also he did, and lent 
him his hand, and so helped him over. The last words of Mr. Honest were, " Grace 
reigns ! " So he left the world. 



312 • THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

After this, it was noised abroad that Mr. Valiaut-fai--truth was taken with a summons 
by the same post as the other, and had this for a token that the summons was true, 
that his pitcher was broken at the fountain.'-" When he understood it, he called for 
his friends, and told them of it. Then said he, " I am going to my Father's ; and 
though with great difficulty I am got hither, yet now I do not repent me of all the 
trouble I have been at to arrive where I am. Mj sword I give to him that shall suc- 
ceed me in my pilgrimage, and my courage and skill to him that can get it. My 
marks and scars I carry with me, to be a witness for me that I have fought His battles 
who now will be my rewarder." When the day that he must go hence was come, 
many accompanied him to the river-side, into which as he went he said, "Death, 
where is thy sting?" And, as he went down deeper, he said, "Grave, where is thy 
victory ? " '^^ So he passed over, and all the trumpets sounded for him on the other 
side. 

Then there came forth a summons for Mr. Stand-fast (this Mr. Stand-fast was he 
whom the pilgrims found upon his knees in the Enchanted Ground), for the post 
brought it him open in his hands ; the contents thereof were, that he must prepare for 
a change of life, for his Master was not willing that he should be so far from Him any 
longer. At this Mr. Stand- fast was put into a muse. 

" Nay," said the messenger, " you need not doubt the truth of my message ; for here 
is a token of the truth thereof: ' Thy wheel is broken at the cistern.' " '^^ 

Then he called to him Mr. Great-heart, who was their guide, and said unto liim, 
" Sir, although it was not my hap to be much in your good company in the days of my 
pilgrimage, yet, since the time I knew you, you have been profitable to me. When I 
came from home, I left behind me a wife and five small children : let me entreat you 
at your return (for I know that you will go and return to your master's house, in hopes 
that you may yet be a conductor to more of the holy pilgrims), that you send to my 
family, and let them be acquainted with all that hath or shall happen unto me. Tell 
them moreover of my happy arrival to this place, and of the present [and] late blessed 
condition that I am in. Tell them also of Christian and Christiana his wife, and how 
she and her children came after her husband. Tell them also Avhat a happy end she 
made, and whither she is gone. I have little or nothing to send to my family, unless 
it be my prayers and tears for them ; of which it will suffice that you acquaint them, 
if peradventure they may prevail." 

When Mr. Stand-fast had thus set things in order, and the time being come for him 
to haste him away, he also went down to the river. Now, there was a great calm at 
that time in the river ; wherefore Mr. Stand-fast, when he was about half-way in, stood 



THE GLORIOUS END OF THE PILGRIMAGE. 313 

a while, and talked to his companions that had waited upon him thither. And he 
said, " This river has been a terror to many ; yea, the thoughts of it have also frighted 
me ; but now methinks I stand easy ; my foot is fixed upon that on which the feet of 
the priests that bare the ark of the covenant stood while Israel went over Jordan."* 
The waters, indeed, are to the palate bitter, and to the stomach cold ; yet the thought 
of what I am going to, and of the conduct that waits for me on the other side, doth 
lie as a glowing coal at my heart. I see myself now at the end of my journey ; my 
toilsome days are ended. I am going to see that head which was crowned with thorns, 
and that face which was spit upon for me. I have formerly lived by hearsay and 
faith ; but now I go where I shall live by sight, and shall be with Him in whose com- 
pany I delight myself. I have loved to hear my Lord spoken of; and wherever I 
have seen the print of His shoe in the earth, there I have coveted to set my foot too. 
His nnme has been to me as a civet-box; yea, sweeter than all perfumes. His voice 
to me lias been most sweet, and His countenance I have more desired than they that 
have most desired the light of the sun. His Word I did use to gather for my food, 
and for antidotes against my faintings. He has held me, and hath kept me from mine 
iniquities ; yea, my steps hath He strengthened in His way." 

Now, while he was thus in discourse, his countenance changed, his strong man 
bowed under him; and, after he had said, " Take me, for I come unto Thee!" he 
ceased to be seen of them. 

But glorious it was to see how the open region was filled with horses and chariots, 
with trumpeters and pipers, with singers and players on stringed instruments, to 
welcome the pilgrims as they went up, and followed one another in at the beautiful 
gate of the City. 

As for Christian's children, the four boys that Christiana brought with her, with 
their wives and children, I did not stay where I was till they were gone over. Also, 
since I came away, I heard one say that they were yet alive, and so would be for the 
increase of the Church in that place where they were for a time. 

Shall it.be my lot to go that way again, I may give those that desire it an account 
of what I here am silent about : meantime I bid my reader 

Adieu. 



40 



REFERENCES TO THE BIBLE 

CONTAINED IN THE FIRST PART. 



' Isa. 0-4:6; Luke 14 : 33 ; Psalms 

38 : 4. 
''Aots2:37;16:30; Heb. 2 : 2, 3. 
'Acts 16 : 30, 31. 
' Heb. 9 : 27. 
Mob 16: 21, 22. 
" Ezek. 22 : 14. 
' Isa. 30 : 33. 
« Matt. 3 : 7. 
'Matt. 7: 13, 14. 
'" Psalms 119 : 105; 2 Peter 1 : 19. 
" Luke 14 : 26. 
'^Gen. 19: 17. 
" Jer. 20 : 10. 
"2 Cor. 4: 18. 
'5 Luke 1.5: 17. 
"* 1 Peter 1 : 4. 
"Heb. 11 : 16. 
'« Luke 9 : 62. 
"Heb. 9 : 17-21. 
™ Tit. 1 : 2. 

" Isa. 65 ; 17 ; John 10 : 27-29. 
" 2 Tiua. 4:8; Rev. 22 : 5 ; Matt. 

13 : 43. 
^^ Isa. 25:8; Rev. 7 : 16, 17; 21 : 4. 
" Isa. 6:2; 1 Thess. 4 : 16, 17 ; 

Rev. 5:11. 
'^ Rev. 4 : 4. 
'« Rev. 14 : 1-5. 
" John 12 : 25. 
'» 2 Cor. 5 : 2. 
''Isa. 55:1,2; John 6: 37; 7:37; 

Rev. 21 : 6; 22: 17. 
'» Psalms 40 : 2. 
" Isa. 35 : 3, 4. 
"' 1 Sam. 12 : 23. 
^^ 1 Cor. 7 : 29. 
'*Ex. 19 : 16, 18. 
'5 Heb. 12 : 21. 
'« Heb. 12 : 25. 
" Heb. 10 : 38. 
'* Matt. 12 : 31. 
" John 20 : 27. 



'» 1 John 4 : 5. 

" Gal. 6:12. 

"Luke 13 :24. 

"Matt. 7 : 13, 14. 

"Heb. 11 :25, 26. 

'^ IMark 8 : 35 ; John 12 : 25 ; Matt. 
10 : 39 ; Luke 14 : 26. 

« Gal. 4 : 21-27. 

" Gal. 3 : 10. 

'8 Psalms 2:12. 

" Matt. 7 : 7. 

=° John 6 : 37. 

" Matt. 7 : 14. 

"M Cor. 4: 15; Gal. 4 : 19. 

=^ Rom. 7 : 9. 

=M Cor. 15 :-56. 

55 Rom. 5 : 20. 

5" John 15:3; Eph. 5 : 26 ; Acts 
15:9; Rom. 16 : 25, 26 ; John 
15 : 13. 

" Luke 16 : 25. 

58 2 Cor. 4 : 18. 

5' Rom. 7 : 15-25. 

«° 2 Cor. 12:9. 

«'Matt. 11 : 12; Acts 14 : 22. 

«'Luke8 : 13. 

"^ Heb. 6 : 6. 

"Luke 19: 14. 

«5 Heb. 10 : 28, 29. 

^ 1 Cor. 15 : 52; 1 Thess. 4 : 16; 
Jude 15; John 5 : 28, 29; 2 
Thes.s. 1 : 7, 8; Rev. 20; 11- 
14; Isa. 26: 21 ; Micah 7 : 16, 
17 ; Psa. 50 : 1-3 ; Mai. 3 : 2, 
3 ; Dan. 7:9,10. 

" Matt. 3 : 12; 13 : 30; 25 : 30 ; 
Mai. 4:1. 

"» Luke 3 : 17. 

«' 1 Thess. 4 : 16, 17. 

™Rom. 2: 14, 15. 

" Isa. 26 : 1. 

" Zech. 12 : 10. 

" Mark 2 : 5. 



" Zech. 3 : 4. 

" Eph. 1:13. 

" Prov. 23 : 34. 

" 1 Pet. 5 : 8. 

™ John 10: 1. 

"Gal. 2 : 16. 

"o Isa. 59 : 20. 

'^ Prov. 6 : 6. 

«' Rev. 2 : 5 ; 1 Thess. 5, 6-8. 

«=* Mark 4 : 40. 

«* Gen. 9 : 27. 

»5 Heb. 11 : 15, 16. 

"^Rom. 7 : 15-21. 

*' Isa. 25 : 8 ; Rev. 21 : 4. 

^ Gen. 19:14. 

«' 1 ,Iohn 3 : 12. 

'" Ezek. 3:19. 

"^ Heb. 2 : 14, 15. 

«' 1 Sam. 2:8; Psa. 113 : 7. 

'^ Heb. 11 : 33, 34. 

'* Isa. 33 : 16, 17. 

'5 Rom. 6: 23. 

'« Mieah 7 : 8. 

" Rom. 8 : 37. 

'* James 4 : 7. 

"' Jer. 2 : 6. 

""' Psa. 44 : 19 ; 107 : 10. 
>" Job3: 5; 10 : 22. 
•"Mer. 2:6; Psa. 69 : 14, 15; 44: 

18, 19. 
™Eph. 6: 18. 
■"Psa. 116 : 4. 
"5 Psa. 23 : 4. 
'»" Job.9 : 11. 
'»' Amos 5 : 8. 
■""* Job 12 : 22. 
™ Job 29 : 3. 
"»Jer. 29: 18, 19. 
"' 2 Peter 2 : 22. 
"'Gen. 39 : 11-13 
"'Prov. 2L : 14. 
"* Prov. 5 : 5. 
"5 Job 31 : 1. 

(315) 



316 



REFERENCES TO THE BIBLE. 



Eph. 4 : 22. 
" 1 John 2 : 16. 
'« Kom. 7 : 24. 
" 1 Cor. 1 : 26 ; 3 : 18 ; Phil. 

7-9. 
"" John 7 : 48. 
'" Luke 16 : 15. 
Mark 8 : .38. 
35. 

: 3 ; 1 Cor. 4 : 20. 
24, 25. 
22-27. 
: 23. 
: 30. 
Deut. 14. 



■'' Prov. 3 

■'* Matt. 23 

'■'^ Rom. 2 : 

'^ James 1 

" Matt. 13 

■•'« Matt. 13 

■'•'Lev. 11; 

™1 Cor. 13 : 1-3; 14 : 7. 

''• Gen. 39 : 12-15. 
1 Cor. 13:2. 

'''Psa. 119: 34. 

''* Psa. 38 : 18 ; Jer. 31 : 19 ; John 
16 : 8 ; Rom. 7 : 24 ; Mark 
16 : 16; Gal. 2 : 16; Rev. 1 : 
5, 6. 



: 9; Gal. 2 : 15, 16; 
12; Matt. 5:6; Rev. 



"^John 16 
Acts 4 
21 : 6. 
"^Rom. 10 : 10; Phil. 1 : 27 ; 3 : 
17; Matt. 5:8; John 14; 15; 
Psa. 50 : 23 ; Job 42 : 5, 6 ; 
Ezek. 20 : 43 ; 36 : 25. 
'" John 4 : 36. 
'^^ Gal. 6 : 9. 
"' 1 Cor. 9 : 24-27. 

Rev. 3:11. 
"Eccles. 1; 2: 11, 
17. 

1 Cor. 5 : 10. 
'''Matt. 4: 8-10; 

1 Cor. 2 : 7, 8. 
*^Psa. 119 : 37. 
'« Phil. 3 : 20. 
" Prov. 23 : 23. 
'*»Heb. 11 : I.37I6. 

Exod. 1 : 22.' 
'™ Dan. 3 : 6. 
'^' Dan. 6 : 7. 
'" Prov. 26 : 25. 
'5' John 6 : 26. 

Gen. 34 : 20-24. 
'5= Luke 20 : 46, 47. 
'5' Acts 8 : 18-23. 
'" Hos. 4 : 16-19; 1 
'»" 2 Tim. 4 : 10. 



17; Isa. 40 



Luke 4 : 5-8. 



•^' 2 Kings 5 : 20-27 ; Matt. 26 : 


™ Luke 17 : 10. 


14, 15 ; 27 : 1-5. 




^"" Heb. 10 : 12. 


'""Gen. 19: 26. 




'""Rom. 4:5; Col. 1 :14; 1 Peter 


""Num. 26: 9, 10; 16 : 31 


, 32. 


1 : 19. 


"'■'Gen. 13: 10-13. 




''"Matt. 11 : 28. 


'"■■' Psa. 65 : 9 ; Rev. 22:1,2 


Ezek. 


''" Matt. 24 : 35. 


47 : 1-9. 




"■■'Psa. 95: 6; Dan. 6 : 10. 


'"* Psa. 23 : 2; Isa. 14 : 30. 




'"Mer. 29 : 12, 13. 


"■" Num. 21 : 4. 




'"* Exod. 25 : 22; Lev. 16:2; Num. 


">« Isa. 9:16. 




7 : 89; Heb. 4: 16. 


■"' Jer. 31 : 21. 




'"' Hab. 2 : 3. 


•** Psa. 88 : 18. 




"' Eph. 1 : 18, 19. 


'""Job 7: 1.5. 




""Acts 16 : 31. 


■'"John 10: 11-15. 




"'' 2 Cor. 12:9. 


■" Hos. 14 : 9. 




■"■"> John 6 : 35. 


■"Heb. 13:2. 




"■" John 6 : 37. 


'" 2 Tim. 2 : 17, 18. 




"•" 1 Tim. 1 : 15 


"*Prov. 21 : 16. 




"'■' Rom. 10:4. 


"^ Prov. 26 : 12. 




'■" Rom. 4 : 25. 


"" Eccles. 10 : 3. 




""' Rev. 1 : 5. 


'" Matt. 12 : 45; Prov. 5 : 


22. 


"■■"' 1 Tim. 2 : 5. 


™ 1 Peter 4: 18. 




"■-" Heb. 7 : 25. 


™ 1 Peter 1 : 5-9 ; 2 Tim. 1 


12-14. 


"'» Prov. 13:4. 


■™ Heb. 12 : 16. 




"■'' Prov. 28 : 26. 


"' Gen. 25 : 32. 




^™Rom. 3 : 10-12; Gen. 6: 5. 


"' Jer. 2 : 24. 




"'"Gen. 8: 21. 


■«' Psa. 7 : 2 ; 1 Peter 5 : 8. 




""' Psa. 125 : 5 ; Prov. 2:15; Rom. 


"* Psa. 88. 




3: 12. 


"' Job 41 : 26-29. 




"''Matt. 11 : 27; 1 Cor. 12 : 3 ; 


'»" Job39 : 19-25. 




Eph. 1 : 17-19. 


>«' Eph. 6:16. 




""'Prov. 1:7; 9: 10; Psa. Ill : 10; 


'»« Exod. 33 : 15. 




Job 28 : 28. 


■*" Psa. 3:5-8; 27 : 1-3. 




235 2 Peter 2 : 22. 


"» Isa. 10:4. 




"'*" Prov. 29 : 25. 


"" Prov. 29 : 5. 




™ Isa. 62 : 4; Songs 2 : 10-12. 


"- Psa. 17:4. 




""« Deut. 23 : 24. 


™Prov. 29 : 5; Dan. 11 


32; 2 


""'Rev. 21 : 18. 


Cor. 11 : 13, 14, 15. 




■""'2 Cor. 3: 18. 


"*Rora. 16: 18. 




"" Psa. 73 : 4, 5. 


"^ Deut. 25 : 2 ; 2 Chron. 


6 : 26, 


"■" Isa. 43 : 2. 


27. 




""Heb. 12 : 22-24. 


"« Rev. 3:19. 




""Rev. 2:7; 3:4; 22 : 5. 


"'Jer. 22 : 12; Eccles. 10: 


1.5. 


"»^Isa. 57 : 1, 2; 65 : 17. 


•"' 2 Cor. 5 : 7. 




"« Gal. 6 : 7, 8. 


""Prov. 19 ; 27. 




"" 1 John 3 : 2. 


'"^ Heb. 10 : 39. 




■"*» 1 Thess. 4 : 13-17; Jude 14 : 15; 


■»' 1 John 2: 21. 




Dan. 7 : 9, 10 ; 1 Cor. 6 : 2, 3. 


™^ 1 Thess. 5 : 6. 




""Rev. 19: 9. 


"" Eccles. 4 : 9. 




"5» Rev. 22 : 14. 


™' Rom. 6 : 21-23. 




"*' Isa. 26 : 2. 


™^ Ephes. 5 : 6. 




"5" Matt. 25 : 23. 


'""' Isa. 64 : 6. 




"^^ Rev. 5 : 13. 


»' Gal. 2:16. 




"5* Rev. 4 : 8. 



REFERENCES TO THE BIBLE 

CONTAINED IN THE SECOND PART. 



iRev. 3:4; 6 : 11. 






^''Heb. 13: 11-16. 




^ Zech. 3 : 7. 






" John 6 : 50. 




'Luke 14 : 15. 






^» Gen. 3:6; Rom. 7 : 24. 




* Jude 14, 15. 






'^'Gen. 28 : 12; John 1 : 51. 




5 Luke 10 :16. 






"■ Heb. 6:19; Joel 3 : 16. 




«Rev. 14 : 13. 






" Gen. 22 : 9. 




' Psa. 126 : 5, 6. 






" 2 Tim. 2 : 22. 




^ James 1 : 23-25. 






^^ Song 2: 11, 12. 




'Luke 18 : 13. 






s« Song 2 : 1. 




'» Song 1 : 3. 






" James 4 : 6 ; 1 Peter 5 : 5. 




" Psa. 1 19 : 54. 






^'Hos. 12 : 4, ,5. 




" 2 Cor. 5:1-4. 






5»Matt. 13 :46; Prov. 8 : 3.5. 




"Psa. 126 : 5, 6. 






«» Song 7 : 4. 




» Luke 1 : 45. 






"'Psa. 84: 6, 7; Hos. 2 : 1,5. 




'■■* Luke 15:7. 






"■^ Isa. 66 : 2. 




« Jonah 2 : 7. 






*' James 4 : 7. 




" Sonir 1:2; John 


20 : 


20. 


«* 1 Pet. 5 : 8, 9. 




'"Matt. 24: 41. 






"^ Isa. 50 : 10. 




" Malt. 11 : 12. 






"« 2 Cor. 4 , Rom. 8 : 37. 




^"Jcr. 12: 1, 2. 






"Matt. 10 : 3. 




" Deut. 22 : 23-27. 






«« Psa. 99 : 6. 




'=Ezek. 36: 37. 






"'' r.on. 39. 




'' Matt, 21 : 29. 






'" .\ots 1 : 13, 14. 




" Prov. 30 : 8. 






" Lam. 3 : 27-29. 




" Prov. 30 : 28. 






" Psa, 88. 




^« Matt. 23 : 37. 






"Rom. 14: 21 ; 1 Cor. 8 : 13 




" Ruth 2 : 12. 






"Matt. 11 : 16-18. 




•■'» Exod. 13 : 8-10. 






"Rev. 8:2; 14 : 2, 3. 




^^ Rom. 5 : 19. 






" 1 Peter 2 : 8. 




'"> Rom. 5:17. 






" Hos. 4 : 8. 




=" Rom. 4 : 24. 






'« Rom. 16 : 23. 




"■' Gal. 3:13. 






"Acts 11 : 26. 




'' Ezek. 34 : 18, 19. 






^ Acts 7 : 59, 60. 




"' Prov. 13 : 15. 






«i Acts 12:2. 




^ Jer. 44 : 16, 17. 






«^ Gen. 3. 




'"Prov. 15 : 19. 






«■' Gal. 4 : 4. 




"Matt. 11 : 28. 






"* Luke 1 : 42-45. 




■" Psa. 120 : 3, 4. 






<"■ Luke 8 : 2, 3. 




'" Judges 5 : 6, 7. 






^ Luke 7 : 37, 50 ; John 1 1 




*''Exod. 12 : 21, 28 


; John 1 : 29. 


12 : ,3. 




"Ezek. 16 : 8-11. 






" Luke 23 : 27 ; JIat t. 27 : 55 


56, 


<■- Job 33 : 14, 15. 






61. 




■" 1 Tim. 6 : 17-19. 






"« Luke 24: 1, 22, 2.3. 




"Heb. 10 : 1-4; 9 


: 13- 


-19. 


*"Lev. 7:32-.34; 10:14, 15; 


Psa. 


'' John 6 : 54-57 ; Heb 


9 : 14. 


25: 1 ; Heb. 13 : 15. 




« Mark 9 : 49. 






'"Deut. 32 : 14; Judges 9 : 


13; 


" Zech. 12 : 10. 






John 15:5. 





■" 1 Peter 2 : 1,2. 

"■■ Isa. 7 : 15. 

'•^' Song 6: 11. 

'*Prov. 11 : 24; Prov. 13 : 7. 

"' 1 Thess. 5 : 14. 

** Luke 10: 34, 35. 

" 3 John 5, 6. 

"Mob 12: 5. 

»" I The.ss. 5 : 14 ; Rom. 14 : 

1 Cor, 8 : 9-13; 1 Cor. 9: 
'""Psa, .38 : 17. 
'"' Acts 21 : 16. 
'"■•^Rev. 17 : .3. 
'"■' Acts 2S : 10, 
'"' Psa, 23 : 2, 
"'»Heb. 5: 2; Isa. 40: 11. 
'""Ezek. 34: 11-16; Jer. 23 : ^ 
1"' 1 John 2: 13, 14. 
«"' Isa, 11:6. 
'"" Matt. 25 : 40. 
"" Ezek. 34 : 25. 
'" Mark 1 1 : 23, 24. 
"Mames 1 : 23; 1 Cor. 13: 12 

Cor. 3:18. 
'" Heb. 10 : 26-29. 
'"Prov. 1 : 10, 14. 
"5 Psa. 27 : 3. 
"« Judg. 15 : 15, 16. 
'" Isa. 2 : 3. 

'"*Eph, 6 : 12-17; Heb. 4 : 12 
'" Prov. 23 : 34, 35. 
™2Pet. 1 : 19. 
"' Prov. 28 : 14. 
'■" Prov. 10 : 7. 
"' James 4 : 4 ; 1 John 2:15. 
"' 1 Tim. 6 : 9. 
'■" Rev. 2 : 10. 
"^ John 1 : 47. 
'" Ec. 12:6. 
'^"Ec. 12 : .3. 
'^'Ec. 12 : 5. 
'»"Ec. 12: 4. 
"'Ec. 12 : 6. 
"' 1 Cor. 1 5 : 55. 
"'Ec. 12 : 6. 
'"Jos. 3: 17. 

(317) 



The Little Pilg-eim. 



In a large old house, with two kind aunts, 

The little Marian dwelt; 
And a happy child she was, I ween, 

For though at times she felt 
That playmates would be better far 

Than either birds or flowers, 
Yet her kind old aunts, and story books. 

Soothed many lonely hours. 

Her favorite haunt, in the summer-time, 

Was a large old apple-tree ; 
And oft amid the boughs she sat, 

With her pet book on her knee. 
The " Pilgrim's Progress " was its name, 

And Marian loved it much ; 
It is, indeed, a glorious book. 

There are not many such ! 

She read it in her little bed, 

Beside the winter fire, 
And in summer-time in the apple-tree, 

As though she would never tire. 

But, unexplained, 'tis just the book 

To puzzle the young brain ; 
And the poor child had no kind friend. 

Its meaning to explain. 

For though her aunts were very kind. 

They were not overwise, 
And only said, " Don't read so, child, 

I'm sure you'll spoil your eyes." 



( 319 1 



320 THE PILGRBPS PROGRESS. 

But Marian still went reading on, 

And visions strange and wild 
Began to fill the little head 

Of the lonely, dreaming child ; 
For she thought that Ciiristian and his wife, 

And all their children too, 
Had left behind their pleasant home. 

And done what she must do. 



" I'll take my Bible," said the child, 

" And seek the road to heaven ; 
I'll try to find the Wicket Gate, 

And hope to be forgiven. 
I wish my aunts would go with me. 

But 'tis in vain to ask ; 
They are so deaf and rather lame. 

They'd think it quite a task. 

No ! I must go alone, I see, 

So I'll not let them know ; 
Or, like poor Christian's friends, they'll say, 

' My dear, you must not go.' 
But I must wait till some grand scheme 

Can ail their thoughts engage ; 
And tlien I'll leave ray pleasant home, 

And go on pilgrimage." 

She had not waited long, before. 

One fine autumnal day. 
She saw the large old coach arrive, 
To take her aunts away. 
" We're going out to spend the day," 

The two old ladies said ; 
" We mean to visit Mrs. Blair— 
Poor soul ! — she's ill in bed. 

" But, Marian, you mast stay at home, 

For the lady's ill, you see ; 
You can have your dinner, if you like. 

In the large old apple-tree. 
And play in the garden all the day, 

Quite happy and content." 
A few more parting words were said, 

And off the ladies went. 



THE LITTLE PILGRIM. ^^^ 

The servauts, too, were all engaged ; 

" The day is come at last," 
Said Marian, " but oh, I wish, 

My pilgrimage was past." 
She knelt beside the apple-tree, 

And for God's assistance prayed ; 
Then, with her basket in her hand, 

Forth tripped the little maid. 

Behind the house where Marian dwelt. 

Far otf in the distance, lay 
A high steep hill, which the sun at morn 
Tinged with its earliest ray. 
" Difficulty " was its rightful name, 
The child had often thought ; 
Towards this hill she turned her steps, 
With hopeful visions fraught. 

The flowers seemed to welcome her, 

'Twas a lovely autumn morn. 
The little lark sang merrily. 

Above the waving corn. 
" Ah, little lark, you sing," said she, 

"On your early pilgrimage ; 
I, too, will sing, for pleasant thoughts 

Should now my mind engage." 

In clear sweet strains she sung a hymn. 

And tripped lightly on her way ; 
Until a pool of soft thick mud 

Across her pathway lay. 
" This is the Slough of Despond," she cried. 

But she bravely ventured through ; 
And safely reached the other side, 

But she lost one little shoe. 

On an old gray stone she sat her down, 

To eat some fruit and bread ; 
Tiien took her little Bible out. 

And a cheering psalm she read. 
Then with fresh hope she journeyed on. 

For many miles away ; 
And she reached the bottom of the hill, 

Before the close of day. 
41 



322 THE PILGRBVS PROGRESS. 

She clambered up the steep ascent, 
Though faint and weary too ; 

But firmly did our Marian keep 
Her purpose still in view. 

" I'm glad, at least, the arbor's past," 

Said the little tired soul ; 
" I'm sure I should have sat me down,. 
And lost my little roll !" 
On the high hill-top she stands at last, 

And our weary Pilgrim sees 
A porter's lodge, of ample size, 
Half hid by sheltering trees. 

She clapped her hands with joy, and cried, 

" Oh, there's the Wicket Gate, 
And I must seek admittance there. 

Before it is too late." 
Gently she knocks — 'tis answered soon. 

And at the open door 
Stands a tall, stout man — poor Marian felt 

As she ne'er had felt before. 

With tearful eyes, and trembling hand. 

Flushed cheek, and anxious brow. 
She said, " I ho{>e you're Watchful, Sir, 

I want Discretion now." 
"Oh yes, I'm watchful," said the man, 

" As a porter ought to be ; 
I s'pose you've lost your way, young Miss, 

You've lost your shoe, I see. 

"Missus," he cried to his wife within, 

" Here's a child here, at the door, 
You'll never see such a one again. 

If you live to be fourscore. 
She wants discretion, so she says. 

Indeed I think 'tis true ; 
But I know some who want it more, 

Who will not own they do." 

"Go to the Hall," his wife replies, 
" And take the child with you. 
The ladies there are all so wise. 

They'll soon know what to do." 
The man complied, and led the child 
Through many a flowery glade; 
" Is that the Palace Beautiful ?" 
The little Pilgrim said, 



THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 323 

" There, to the left, among the trees ? 

AVliy, Miss, 'tis mighty grand ; 
Call it a palace, if you please, 

'Tis tlie finest in the laud. 
Now we be come to the fine old porch, 

And this is the IMarble Hall ; 
Here, little lady, you must stay, 

\Vhile I the servants call." 



Tired and sad he left the child, 
But he quickly re-appeared, 
And with him the lady of the house — 
Poor Marian's heart was cheered. 
" Sweet little girl," the lady said, 

In accents soft and kind, 
" I'm sure you sadly want some rest. 
And rest you soon shall find." 



To a room where three young ladies sat, 
The child was quickly led ; 
" Piety, Prudence, and Charity," 

To herself she softly said. 
" What is your name, my little dear?" 
Said the eldest of the three, 
Whom Marian, in her secret thought, 
Had christened Piety. 

" We'll send a servant to your friends, 

How uneasy they must be ! " 
Admiringly she watched the child. 

Who, indeed, was fair to see ; 
Around her bright and lovely face 

Fell waves of auburn hair. 
As modestly she told her name. 

With whom she lived and where. 

"How did you lose your way, my love?" 

She gently raised her head, 
" I do not think I've lest ray way," 

The little Pilgrim said. 
" This is the Palace Beautiful, 

May I stay here to-night ?" 
They smiled and said, " We're glad our house 

Finds favor in your sight : — 



324 THE PILGRBVS PROGRESS. 

" Yes, gladly will we keep you here, 

For many nights to come." 
"Thank you," said Marian, " but I soon 
Must seek my heavenly home. 
The valley of the Shadow of Death 

Is near this house, I know " — 
She stopped, for she saw, with great surprise, 
Their tears began to flow. 

She little thought the mourning dress, 

Which ail the ladies wore. 
Was for one whom they had dearly loved, 

And should see on earth no more. 
Their brother had been called away. 

Their briglitest and their best ; 
No wonder, then, that Marian's words 

Roused grief in every breast. 

Sobs only for awhile were iieard ; 

At length the ladies said, 
" My, love, you have reminded us 

Of our loved and early dead ; 
But this you could not know, my dear, 

And it indeed is true ; 
We are all near to Death's dark door. 

Even little girls like you." 

"Yes," said the timid, trembling child, 

" I know it must be so ; 
But, ma'am, I hope that Piety 

May be with me when I go. 
And will you show me your armory, 

When you have time to spare? 
I hope you have some small enough 

For a little girl to wear." 



No more she said, for Piety, 

As Marian called her, cast 
Her arms around the Pilgrim's neck. 

The secret's out at last. 
' You puzzled all," said Piety ; 

" But now, I see, you've read 
A glorious book, which, unexplained, 

Has turned your little head. 



THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 325 

" Oh, dearly, when I was a child, 

I loved that Pilgrim Tale ; 
But then ruamma explained it well — 

And if we can prevail 
On your kind aunts to let you stay 

Some time with us, my dear, 
You shall read that book with my mamma, 

And she will make it clear." 

« 
Now we'll return to Marian's home. 

And see what's passing there. 
The servants all had company. 

And a merry group they were. 
They had not missed our Pilgrim long, 

For they knew she oft would play 
In that old garden, with a book. 

The whole of the livelong day. 

" Betty," at last, said tiie housekeeper, 

" Where can Miss Marian be ? 
Her dinner was in the basket packed. 

But, sure, she'll come into tea !" 
They sought her here, they sought her there, 

But they could not find the child ; 
And her poor old aunts, when they came home. 

With grief were almost wild. 

The coachman and the footman too. 

In different ways were sent ; 
But none thought of the narrow way 
In which the Pilgrim went. 
" Perhaps she followed us to town," 

Poor Aunt Rebecca said, 
" I wish we had not left our home ; 
I fear the child is dead." 



And to the town the coachman went, 

For they knew not what to do ; 
And night drew on, when a country boy 

Brought Marian's little shoe. 
With the shoe in her hand, the housekeeper 

Into the parlor ran, 
" Oh, Mistress, here is all that's left 

Of poor Miss Marian. 



326 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

It was found sticking in the mud, 

Just above Harlem Chase ; 
I fear the poor child's perished there, 

For 'tis a frightful place." 
Then louder grew the ladies' grief; 

But soon their hearts were cheered. 
When a footman grand, with a note in his hand, 

From the distant Hall appeared. 

Aunt Ruth now read the note, and cried, 

"Oh, sister, all is well ! 
The child is safe at Brookland Hall, 

With Lady Arundel, 
Who wants to keep her for a month ; 

Why, yes; I think she may — 
Such friends as Lady Arundel 

Are not met with every day. 

" Our compliments, and thanks to her, 

When you return, young man ; 
We'll call to-morrow at the Hail, 

And see Miss Marian." 
Then came a burst of grateful joy. 

That could not be suppressed, 
And, with thankful hearts and many tears, 

The ladies went to rest. 

We'll take a peep at our Marian now. 

There in her bed lies she; 
How blissful were her dreams that night. 

In the arms of Piety. 
Oh, that happy month at Brookland Hall, 

How soon it passed away ! 
Cheerful and good were Marian's friends. 

And who so kind as they ? 

And, more than all, while there she stayed, 

They did their best to bring 
The little lamb to that blest fold 

Where reigns the Shepherd King. 
For many a lesson ne'er forgot. 

The little Marian learned ; 
And a thoughtful and a happier child 

She to her home returned. 



THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 327 

Years rolled away, the scene has changed, 

A wife and mother now, 
Marian has found the Wicket Gate, 

She and her children too. 
And oh ! how sweet it is to see 

This little Pilgrim band. 
As on towards their heavenly home. 

They travel hand in hand. 
When cloudy days fall to their lot, 

They see a light afar. 
The light that shone on Bethlehem's plain, 

The Pilgrim's guiding star. 

And now, dear children, whosoe'er. 

Or wheresoe'er you be. 
Who ponder o'er this strange, true tale 

Of Marian's history, — 
If to the flowers of your young hearts, 

Instruction's dews are given, 
Oh ! be earnest as our Marian was, 

To find the road to Heaven. 



^s. 



'Z^'; 



7S 



